


bury a friend

by spaghettideviant



Series: In My Heart, In My Head [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cannibalism, Graphic Descriptions of Cannibalism, Graphic Descriptions of Murder, Graphic Descriptions of Torture, Incest, M/M, Mentions of Molestation and Child Abuse, Mentions of Pedophilia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-03-07 08:18:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 34,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18869341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaghettideviant/pseuds/spaghettideviant
Summary: Connor Elias Stern and his twin brother are anthropophagi.Cannibals.





	1. when we all fall asleep

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER. PLEASE READ
> 
> This work contains graphic depictions of murder, cannibalism, and incest. There are mentions of rape, pedophilia, molestation, and suicide. Please do not read this if any of those things bother you. Notice that this work is tagged with major character death. Please take note of that. Read at your own risk, I am not responsible for how you interpret this, or if you read it despite the tags. This work is dark, be cautious.
> 
> You can find me on twitter @cannibalspaghet. This au has been brewing for a few months, now. There, you can find all of the original threads, as well as fanart and cosplay done by some wonderful creators and fans of this au.
> 
> Enjoy.

_ What do you want from me? Why don’t you run from me? What are you wondering? What do you know? Why aren’t you scared of me? Why do you care for me? When we all fall asleep, where do we go? _

  
  


Teeth chatter against frozen air. Bitter. Cold. A smell dwindles in the fenced enclosure. Metal hits snow. A shovel. A tree with a tire swing. The ropes are frayed. It’s old. The shovel digs deep enough to create a small hole. 

Two shivering children, bare feet turning numb in the snow. 

A man dropping the shovel. Reaching to the smaller of the two children, taking a jar from tiny, shaking hands. He gives the jar a good shake before dropping it into the hole, covering it with the dirt. 

The jar rattles.

It’s filled with teeth.

  
  


Connor pulls his feet up further on the couch, keeping them warm underneath the thick blanket. The television whirs across from him, sounds of people arguing. Baking. He nuzzles down into the warmth, intending on drifting back to sleep. Under the blanket, his toes wriggle against each other, cold. Shutting his eyes, he wills sleep to come back to him, pull him once more into it’s sweet embrace.

He hates having that dream.

The tea on the coffee table is growing cold. He knows it. Connor doesn’t like to waste things, but craves a better nap than what he just had. Something to keep him from getting tired at work. He needs to sleep again, so he ignores the tea’s beckoning. Yells at his thoughts to shut up and let him sleep.

The front door creaks open and he curses, opening his eyes. He sits upright as Niles clambers in through the door frame, arms filled with groceries. Paper bags touch marble countertops. “I thought you had already left for work by now.”

Connor checks his watch, releases a deep sigh. “I should have.” He pushes the blanket off of his legs, revealing his uniform. Dark slacks that are easy to move in, a white button down rolled up to the elbows. His apron hangs by the door with his coat, by his slip resistant shoes. He yawns as he slides onto one of the barstools, watching Niles. 

Snowflakes melt against the collar of Niles’ coat. Connor thinks about his dream as Niles removes his coat, lays it on the counter. He starts unpacking the groceries. An array of different fruits, fresh kale and spinach, vegetables: some for cooking, some for snacking, instant rice and couscous. There are no meats. Connor grins, but his stomach growls. He reaches out to grab some of the strawberries before Niles can put them in the fridge.

The flavor is sweet, delicate. It leaves a red tint on his lips, a sugary aftertaste on his tongue. He sweeps his eyes over Niles, admiring his slacks, his blazer, the turtleneck underneath. It’s a bit too tight on him, like it always is, outlining his pectoral muscles, straining against the black fabric.

A necklace hangs from his throat. A short black chain and one lone key.

Connor sets the strawberry’s remains in the trash can. His hunger isn’t completely sated, but he’ll be fine. At least for now.

The good thing about having a twin is understanding each other’s feelings. Niles may not be able to read Connor’s mind, but his therapist deemed him an empath several years prior. He understands Connor’s emotions, registers how he feels. It seems like he’s guessing what Connor’s thinking, but he’s really only feeling Connor’s feelings. Secondhand hunger. “My stomach’s in the same state. Dinner tonight?”

He raises his eyebrow with the words, dragging the syllables out.

Nodding, Connor catches his meaning, a sly smile creeping onto his own features. “Of course. Any preferences?”

Thinking for a moment, Niles puts the rest of the groceries away, shutting the refrigerator with a soft click. “Healthy. O Negative.”

Connor nods, then leans down from the stool to grab his non-slips, pulling out the socks stuffed inside of them and pulling them over his cold feet. “O Neg?” Connor raises an eyebrow. “I thought you preferred A.” 

Niles shrugs, pours himself a glass of water. “A is hard to find. I’m okay with anything.”

Connor grabs his coat on the way out of the door, folding his arms to brace himself against the cold snow. He slides into the driver’s seat of his car, pulls out of the driveway. Dinner still on his mind, Connor smiles as he drives, not bothering with the radio. He prefers to drive in silence, to work out a game plan.

Connor and Niles are anthropophagi.

_ Cannibals. _

Connor’s responsibility is to find a potential victim. Survey them for a few hours, ask them questions about their diet, their blood type. He’s better with people than Niles is. Connor will spend hours flirting with them, his charm turned all the way up. He’ll seduce them, bring them back home, and Niles will kill them. Slowly, methodically strip the flesh from their bones and portion it out for himself, for Connor. 

Putting the car in park, Connor pulls out his phone, checking it before heading inside. He’s got a few minutes, why not? There’s a text from Niles, and Connor briefly wonders if he forgot something. It’s a short text, only a few words. Niles isn’t very talkative, and usually responds to Connor’s paragraphs of prose with one word answers. Sometimes, just a “k”.

_ >Gavin is on his way over. Be quiet coming in. _

That makes Connor roll his eyes and shove his phone back in his pocket. He grabs his apron off of the dashboard, and steps back out into the cold, folds his arms as he walks towards the building. Gavin. God, Connor hates Gavin.

He’s Niles’ boyfriend, or fuck toy, or whatever. Connor isn’t really sure what their relationship entails, and he isn’t about to ask. Niles and Connor have a quiet understanding, at least for that. They don’t talk about Gavin.

Connor pushes open the entrance to the kitchen, removing his coat and hanging it with the other employee stuff. Tying his apron, he nods to another waitress, Kara. She offers Connor a smile as he clocks in, and immediately launches into an excited tale about her day. Connor doesn’t have any friends, so he doesn’t really get the option to ignore her or be picky. He nods along with her story, occasionally tossing a “what?” or “that’s crazy!” just so she’ll think he’s listening.

She follows him around while he works, as usual. Kara is more than capable of doing her job, but she’s incredibly clingy. Her daughter died a few years ago. A pity. It made Kara almost unbearable, even though Connor used to consider her a good friend. Now, he can’t stand her. All she does is talk and cry. Their conversations never have any depth, any backbone. Hours upon hours of ‘my daughter died while I wasn’t watching her and I feel guilty.’

Connor hates her. She’s annoying. He hates people that are self centered.

In his moments away from her, Connor’s mind wanders, thinking about Gavin with intense loathing. He truly doesn’t understand why Niles hasn’t gotten rid of him yet. It’s not like Gavin provides anything substantial or useful to them, besides fucking Niles. 

It’s unfair, really. Unfair that Connor has to work while Niles is at home, most likely fucking Gavin senseless. Unfair that Niles gets to have someone to spend time with, to fuck with no consequences, no worries that he’ll leave after. 

Connor tries to focus on finding a potential victim rather than dwell on his own jealousy. Connor will meet someone eventually, surely. 

Hopefully. 

The restaurant starts to clear out. Connor always forgets how quickly his shifts move by when he’s brooding like this. He focuses his attention on a red head, leaned against the wall in a booth in the corner. She’s on her phone. Smirking, Connor makes his way over to her table, leaning on the booth and greeting her warmly. He turns on the charm, flirting almost shamelessly. Thankfully, she bites, placing her hand on Connor’s forearm, smiling wide, staring up at him through heavy eyelids. 

Someone snaps their fingers from across the room, gaining Connor’s attention. Groaning, he turns. On older man, maybe fifty, holds up his glass, shaking it. The ice clinks. It’s empty. “Excuse me,” Connor leaves the girl, pulling out his notepad to remember what the old man is drinking. He fetches a bottle of whiskey from the bar, he refills the old man’s drink.

When he returns to the booth, the red head is gone. Frowning, Connor grabs the cash tip, reading the phone number scrawled out on one of the bills, accompanied by a name. North. 

Connor shoves the money into his apron and starts bussing tables. What a bitch. He wanted dinner, not some lousy phone number. Now, it’s too late. The old man looks too overweight to be appetizing, and the restaurant is now empty. Damn. Connor doesn’t know how he’ll explain his idiocy to Niles. He can’t blame some random old man, can he?

The old man calls for Connor’s attention again. Connor doesn’t bother hiding his annoyance as he makes his way back over there. “What can I do for you?” There’s venom in his voice, but he doesn’t care anymore.

“She was way out of your league, Kid.” The man leans back in the booth, tapping his knuckles against the table top. “I was saving you from rejection.” Connor frowns, deeply. He didn’t even need a refill, he was just being a dick. “I can tell you’re mad at me.” He gestures to the seat across from him, unoccupied. “Sit down, tell me why you’re angry.”

Connor’s wary, but he slides into the booth anyway. “You didn’t cockblock me, and she wasn’t out of my league. I got her phone number.”

The man laughs. His voice is deep, melodic. “So you really are just a punk ass kid trying to get laid, huh?”

“I am not a kid.”

Ignoring him, the man drinks from his whiskey. Asshole. “Take it from someone who’s been there, Kid. Most of these women ain’t worth your time.” He pauses. “I’m Hank, by the way.”

“Connor Elias.” Connor folds his arms. “And, forgive me for my rudeness, but you really shouldn’t butt into other people’s business. It’s very impolite and not your concern.”

“Really? Well,” Hank laughs again, raising his voice an octave, imitating Connor. “Forgive me for my rudeness, but no one wants to see you try and fail to get some floozy to let you fuck her.”

Connor snorts. “Floozy? What is this? 1925?”

Hank raises his hands in defense. “Hey, it’s not my fault you’re too young to understand basic slang.”

Frowning again, Connor shakes his head. “I’m thirty-one.”

“What? No way.”

“Way. How old are you? Seven hundred?”

Hank presses his hand to his chest, feigning hurt. “Ouch! That stung. I’m fifty-three.”

They talk for a while before Connor has to get back to work. In that brief amount of time, Connor decides that he hates this man. Hank stays seated while Connor helps close the restaurant down, and Connor keeps glancing back at him.

His weight suggests that his diet isn’t the best, but Connor would be lying if he said that Hank didn’t make his mouth salivate in the best of ways. Maybe Connor can make this interesting, spend some time pursuing him, dating him, fucking him. then finally take him home, let Niles carve that damn smirk right off his face. He’ll watch Niles take the life from him, watch Hank’s eyes as they realize Connor’s true intention, how Connor deceived him.

Connor settles on calling the number North left once the restaurant closes, Hank long gone. She’ll be enough to hold them over while Connor waits, leading Hank on until he can see the look in his eyes as Connor breaks his heart and Niles breaks every bone in his body.

North agrees to meet Connor. He’s always surprised by how trusting people can be.

They make out in his car for a while before she suggests they go somewhere else. He brings her to his home, internally gagging as she whispers dirty things in his ear. If Connor’s honest, he prefers men. Both for food and for sex. But, he’ll take what he can get this late at night. 

Once the front door shuts behind them, North is on Connor in seconds. Her lips on his neck, her hands running down his chest. Connor’s back collides with the wall as her hand gropes at the crotch of his slacks. Bold. Connor looks over at the couch, and pushes her off of him. He lowers his voice. “Hey, my brother is uh,” He points, and thankfully, she backs off. They walk across the living room to stare down at the couch.

Niles is asleep, Gavin cuddled up against his chest. Connor points to a door. “Wait for me?” He presses a kiss to her open mouth, making sure to use tongue. She seems to respond well to that. She goes down the hall. Obedient. Nice. This should go smoothly. Connor taps Niles’ cheek, making him stir. Blue eyes blink up at him. “I need the key.”

“What?”  
“The key. I brought a girl home.”

Niles sits upright, startling Gavin out of sleep as well. Niles pets his head, smiling softly, apologizing for waking him. “I’ll be there in a second.”

Connor could vomit. God, he hates Gavin.

North is waiting on Niles’ bed, clothes gone, legs spread. It takes a lot of self control to keep Connor from laughing. She’s so desperate. North’s eyelashes flutter. “Are you going to keep standing there or are you going to come over here and fuck me?”

Connor blinks at her. Huh. The door opens again, thank  _ God, _ revealing Niles, Gavin slung over his shoulder. He grins. Connor turns to North as Niles shuts the door. “Why don’t we keep this party going?” North raises an eyebrow. Niles sets Gavin carefully on the bed, tucking him under the blankets. “All three of us?”

North nods fervently. “Hell yeah.”

It’s sad, really. Connor almost feels bad. She’s so easy, so eager. Poor girl.

The guilt quickly fades as Niles suggests, “Downstairs?”

Niles pushes past them, and Connor helps North stand from the bed. She wobbles. She’s drunk. Niles wraps his fingers around the key hanging from his throat, then leans forward to insert it into a small door, imbedded in the wall next to his bed. 

Connor grins, gestures for North to go first. 

She does. Idiot.

Niles follows behind her, necklace jingling with each stair. Slowly, they descend into the dark basement. Two flights of stairs. The first one, wooden, leads into a small room, the original basement that came with the house. It’s clean, empty, unlit. A hole in the floor, and another set of stairs. These are metal. 

Niles and Connor spent an entire year building this. Ripping out the floor of the basement and digging deeper, extending it. Adding another set of stairs, making the room large, bigger even than their living room. Covering the walls, the floors, the ceiling with white tile. Adding cabinets, mirrors, a metal cage for emergencies. Niles found an old dental engine on Craigslist. They repurposed it, brought it down here. 

It’s perfect. A comforting room of their own creation. An accomplishment.

Connor is incredibly proud of it. He hopes North is going to love it, too. The same way the other victims they brought down here before her loved it.

She stumbles around in the dark for a moment before collapsing onto the tile. Connor laughs, turning to Niles to see if he found that quite as amusing. He yawns, covering his mouth with his hand. Connor sighs. “Long night?”

“Fuck you.” Niles shakes his head, flicking Connor off before moving to the center of the room, pulling on the chain connecting to the lights. The room illuminates, and it’s blinding. Pure, bright. It’s clean. Connor inhales deeply, the smell of bleach filling his lungs.

North’s screams are blood curdling.

She must love it.

Niles is on top of her in seconds, shoving his fingers into her mouth to stop her from screaming. She bites him, and he pushes her harder against the tile, using his knees to keep her pinned. Chuckling, Connor moves past the surgical partitions to the repurposed dental engine. He opens up the leather straps at the top, at the bottom, opens the containers of tools, of knives, scalpels. Niles manages to pull North up to her feet, his hand still firm in her mouth.

He drags her by her hair. 

Connor helps him force North’s limbs into the leather straps, tightening them around her ankles, her wrists. Niles pulls his hand free from her mouth, and her screeches start to echo. Connor covers his ears. To get her to stop, Niles takes the pliers from the small table, holding her jaw with one hand and pulling teeth out with the other. Each one drops, bloodied, into a small tray with a soft clink. The screams fade into gurgled moans of agony. Connor uncovers his ears. Niles sets the pliers down, rolls up his sleeves, revealing swirling, intricate tattoos. They spiral away from his wrists, disappearing underneath his sleeves. He yawns, cracks his neck. Then, he gets to work.

Connor feels very lucky, getting to watch this.

Niles starts by breaking the bones in her arms to keep her from pulling on the straps. The resounding crack makes Connor giggle. He loves that sound, and the moans that follow. 

Pain, inherently, is an incredibly sexy sound. 

Something about pain never fails to make Connor smile, pleasure coursing through his veins. He watches Niles snap bone, after bone, after bone, while his brain saves the images for later use. Gurgled shrieks and bloodied moans, the twist of her mouth, the sweet, sweet terror in her dark eyes. Connor loves it. Needs more. 

There are differences between Connor and Niles that make Connor content to watch, rather than inflict the pain himself. Connor is grown, yes, and tall. But, he pales in comparison to Niles’ size, his weight, his muscle. Connor is tall, but lanky. His bones thin and brittle like a bird’s, his muscles nonexistent. He’s thin, lean, but not in shape. Exercise isn’t a word in Connor’s vocabulary. 

Niles, on the other hand, is taller, stronger. Broad shoulders, thick thighs, biceps and pectorals basically busting out of all of his shirts. Connor has seen him naked. His abdomen is astounding. Cut, chiseled. Odd, compared to Connor’s soft layer of chub. The consumption of human flesh aside, they both abide by vegan rules. No meat, no dairy, no animal byproducts. Similar diets and yet, Niles is huge. 

Five minutes younger, and still bigger than Connor in every way. 

Connor prefers to watch because he knows he would never be able to snap a bone with his bare hands. People are like toothpicks to Niles, while Connor struggles to open doors sometimes. He has other, stronger servers carry heavy trays for him at work. He’s puny when compared to Niles. 

He wants to see others in pain, not hurt himself by trying to use his noodle arms. 

So, he watches Niles work. Biting his lip, pressing his thighs together to hide his arousal as North’s blubbering grows silent. Her breathing stops. Yawning again, Niles holds his hand out. Connor eagerly places the knife in his palm. 

The way Niles carves a body is artistic. Calculated. Beautiful. He cuts where he knows the blood won’t gush or spray him. Gently removing flesh from bone, carving away muscles and tendons with a quiet grace. His hands, large palms and thick fingers, delicately dance with the knife, slashing skin. Slabs of meat, of flesh, hits the table attached to the dental engine with soft thuds. 

Connor’s mouth waters. 

Another difference between them. Niles prefers his food cooked, seasoned, prepared.

Connor could eat someone raw. 

The taste of blood is so delicious. More so than anything Connor has ever tasted. The metallic twang that coats the back of his neck afterwards is his favorite thing in the entire world. Everything about eating someone raw, dead or alive, is euphoric. Just thinking about it is making Connor hard again. 

He reaches down to adjust himself over his pants, clearing his throat. Now is not the time. 

“Concon,” Niles yawns. 

Connor flicks his gaze upwards, away from North’s body, now mostly bones and organs. “Yeah?” 

“Containers, please.” 

“Right,” In his murder fueled sex haze, Connor almost forgot. He moves away from the dental engine, maneuvering to the cabinets stocked with empty tupperware. He opens a drawer, pocketing blank labels and a permanent marker before filling his arms with containers and lids, walking them back to Niles. He peels skin away from North’s face, revealing muscle. Connor drops a lid. “Sorry,” He can feel Niles’ eyes on him as he sets the rest of the tupperware on the table, then as he bends down to get the stray lid.

“Everything alright?”

“Mhmm.” Connor nods, setting the lid down and reaching up to adjust his glasses. “Just a bit distracted is all.”

Niles watches Connor’s face for a moment before glancing down at his legs. Sighing, he returns to North’s face. “I can tell.”

Furrowing his brow, Connor is confused before,  _ oh. _ He adjusts his pants again. God damn, he’s got to get better at hiding that.

Minutes pass as Niles starts placing slabs of meat into the containers, sealing the lids and adding labels, writing blood types and muscle structures. Niles sighs again. “Connor,”

_ “What?” _

“Incinerator.” Connor jumps, remembering that, too. He quickly crosses over to the small fireplace, turning it on. He can feel the heat against his face. Niles turns back to his work, shaking his head. “God, you’re acting like we haven’t done this before.”

Connor folds his arms. “I am not. I just… forgot. I told you, I’m-”

“Your arousal doesn’t excuse your bumbling idiocy.” Connor shuts up, leaning against the incinerator door. It’s warm. Niles stacks bloody tupperware into small towers. “Get yourself under control.”

“You know that I-”

Niles sighs heavily, grabbing handfuls of snapped, frayed bones and walking towards Connor. “You can’t bring someone home and make me do  _ all _ of the work, Concon.”

“I know, but I-”

“And, I don’t mind extra work, you know that, but please don’t burden me with your victims.” Connor slides away from the fire, opening the hatch so Niles can dump the bones inside. “Let me finish up here and we can…” 

Connor doesn’t let him finish the thought, listening to the way his words trail off. “Ni, it’s cool. Gavin’s here. You’re tired. I don’t expect anything.” 

Niles raises an eyebrow, watching him momentarily before moving back to grab more bones. “I don’t mind.” 

A clock ticks somewhere in the room. Bones clink together as Niles bundles them in his arms. Connor keeps his breathing steady, contemplating Niles’ suggestion. 

They’re close. More so than most siblings.

The fire rages with each new bone. The red glow reflects off of Connor’s glasses onto Niles’ face. Connor bites his lip. “Okay, yeah.” 

Connor shuts the small door while Niles moves to the sink, washing his hands, scrubbing his fingernails clean of dirt and blood. Connor grabs the stacks of tupperware, moving them to the large fridge in the corner. He pauses briefly to admire his reflection. One wall of the basement, covered in mirrors, brings all of the gory details of the basement into existence, seemingly making them real. It’s hard to explain, but Connor feels more real looking at his reflection than he does in any other moment in his life. 

The mirrors reflect his appearance, and he glances past his backwards self to Niles, scrubbing at his inked wrists. He looks good tonight. Still in his clothes from work, his slacks, though his shoes are long since discarded. Connor runs his fingers along his own neck, trying to stay focused on cleaning. 

He can feel Niles’ eyes on him as he fetches the bleach from a low cabinet. Connor’s never uncomfortable with Niles’ prolonged gazes but it still feels scrutinizing somehow. Connor walks a little slower back to the dental engine, pulling gloves over his hands and splashing the bleach onto the blood stained tile.

A hose connects to a pipe in the ceiling. He sprays the bleach, targeting the drain, watching the red water drip down into the earth beneath the room. He scrubs the blood from the operating chair while Niles takes the tools, the pliers, the knives to the sink to clean them. 

They fall into a silent routine, cleansing the room of all evidence, save for the flesh occupying the fridge. 

Connor drops his gloves into the trash can, moving to wash his hands, his face. He adjusts his glasses after patting his face with a dry towel, turning to lean against the counter and admire their handiwork. 

The basement is spotless. As if no one beside him and Niles were ever down there. All traces of a poor girl’s life, completely gone. 

A beautiful tragedy.

Niles leans against the counter beside Connor, arms folded. Looking down at Connor, he tips his head. “Are you better now?” 

Connor thinks for a moment, considering turning him down. It’s late, they should sleep. His tired state gets the best of him, and he answers with a sheepish, “No.” 

Sighing, Niles places his hand on Connor’s shoulder, pushing him down to the floor. Connor lets his legs flip out in front of him, leaning his head back against the cabinet. Niles trails his hand across Connor’s shirt. It’s bloodied, the buttons mostly undone. 

This is one thing that Gavin can never take away from Connor: his relationship with Niles. 

Despite Niles’ attachment to that small, greasy man, he will never stop spending time like this with Connor. Connor’s lucky, really. If anything, he’s relieved that Niles isn’t really  _ that _ serious about Gavin. If he were, surely, Niles would put a stop to this. 

He doesn’t. Not now. Not ever, hopefully.

Niles yawns as he slides down the zipper of Connor’s slacks, pulling the fabric away just enough so Connor isn’t restrained anymore. He reaches up to one of the drawers, fumbling blindly through the contents before getting his hands on a small bottle. He shuts the drawer with a soft click. 

Connor’s heart races, the heels of his non-slips squeaking against the tile. Niles yawns again, covering his mouth and shutting his eyes tight. Legs still squirming, Connor pulls himself from his boxers, shivering at the touch of his own fingers. Niles’ hand replaces his own, and Connor gasps softly, sucking his lip between his teeth.

He bites down. Niles will stop if Connor makes too much noise. Connor learned that the hard way. 

It gets more difficult to contain his excitement when Niles lets his thumb graze the tip of Connor’s cock, applying the slightest bit of pressure to the slit. He takes his time with the bottle, squeezing a generous amount of its contents onto his palm. It’s cold, and Connor shivers again when Niles presses his palm to the shaft, thick fingers wrapping around Connor with graceful dexterity. 

Years of experience has basically made Niles an expert. He knows exactly how to work his hand to get Connor off, the perfect ways to twist his wrist. He uses those techniques now, slowly running his hand from the base to the tip, squeezing his fingers ever so slightly. 

Connor refrains from shutting his eyes, instead focusing on the movement of Niles’ hand. He doesn’t like feeling like he’s missing out. He likes to watch, no matter what they do. Daringly, Connor reaches for his shirt, pulling the front hem untucked, holding it up to expose more of his skin for a better view. 

He gasps again when Niles’ other hand runs through Connor’s trail of hair, moving slowly past Connor’s cock to squeeze underneath. It’s getting hard for Connor to stay quiet. Niles picks up the pace, stroking Connor faster, undoubtedly messing with him, knowing how hard Connor is trying to be silent. 

What an asshole. 

Connor squeezes his legs together, letting his hands pinch his thighs over the fabric of his slacks. Niles chuckles darkly. “Make noise if you want, I don’t mind.” 

Licking his lips, Connor isn’t really sure what caused this sudden change of heart. Maybe it’s because Niles is tired, too tired to care. Or, maybe, hopefully, he has a punishment planned for a later date. 

Though he loves their sweet, tender moments like this, Connor craves so much more. 

Too often does Connor wish that Niles would just rip his clothes off and rail him without care. Without whatever’s holding him back. 

It’s rare that their moments ever escalate past this, ever involve anything more than a simple hand job. Connor loves those times more than anything else. Hushed whispers and the scrape of teeth against skin. Quick, angry trysts that leave Connor’s head spinning. 

Niles doesn’t like those moments as much. He prefers this. 

Connor wonders if it’s because of Gavin. If Niles being with Gavin makes their encounters less frequent. Niles will get Connor off with his hands like this whenever Connor needs him to. But, actual sex? Never. Not since he met Gavin. Though, to be fair, it was rare before then, anyway. 

So, Connor moans, low enough to be a whisper. Maybe, if he’s careful, calculated, strategic, he can convince Niles to take him right here on the floor. He reaches a hand up to pull at his hair, eyes fluttering shut. He pants, breath hanging heavy on the cold air of the basement, pulling on his own dark curls, hoping that Niles takes the hint. Flips him over and fucks him senseless. 

He doesn’t. Connor comes in his hand. 

Niles stands, moving to the sink to wash his hands once more. Connor takes a few minutes to steady his breathing, looking up at Niles. He can tell that Niles is hard, too, and desperately wants to at least return the favor. Niles holds a hand out to Connor, helping him stand from the floor. 

“You should shower.” 

Connor looks down at his stomach, pants and shirt unbuttoned and messy. White fabric coated in blood and come. Fantastic. 

Niles stumbles when they climb the stairs in the dark, and Connor wonders if he’s going  to jerk off once Connor isn’t looking. Sometimes Niles can be so weird about things like this, and Connor only partially understands. 

After locking the door behind them, Niles flings himself into bed behind Gavin, wrapping his arms around him and pulling him close. Gavin wakes, chuckling momentarily before leaning up to press a kiss to Niles’ chin. Niles presses his entire body against Gavin, and jealousy surges through Connor’s veins. 

He’s going to waste his erection on Gavin. 

Sick.

Connor slips out of Niles’ room and into the bathroom, leaning against the door and shutting his eyes. 

He wishes that Niles liked him the way he likes Niles.

  
  


_ Say it, spit it out. What is it exactly? You’re paying? Is the amount cleaning you out? Am I satisfactory? Today, I’m thinking about the things that are deadly. The way I’m drinking you down, like I wanna drown, like I wanna end me. _

  
  


The glow from a television illuminates a cluttered and messy living room. Two figures on the couch, one on the chair. 

A little boy, watching the two on the couch with wide eyes. 

He turns back to the television, and pretends not to hear what the others are doing under the blanket. 

  
  


Gavin lingers in the kitchen while Niles makes breakfast, dancing around Niles and tasting everything he’s cooking. Connor sinks down into a chair at the dining room table, folding his arms and dropping his head face down, burying into his arms in search of comfort. 

Niles and Gavin don’t seem to notice. Connor listens to their conversation instead of falling asleep on the table. 

“You have to stop makin’ tofu.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do, Gav. I like tofu.” 

“Ugh.” A scoff. “Isn’t it disgustin’, though? How can you stomach it?”

“Stop bitching, you haven’t even tried it.” 

“And, I’m not going to, Baby. That shit looks fuckin’ gross.”

Niles sighs, and Connor can hear a spatula scrape the inside of a skillet. “Then don’t tell me what to cook.” 

“God put animals on the earth so we could eat ‘em, Ni. You’re crazy.” 

“I am not crazy for being a vegan. If anything, you’re crazy for wanting to kill poor, defenseless animals.” 

“Okay, whatever, don’t play that card-”

“A wise man once said,” Niles clears his throat, and Connor sits up as footsteps approach him. He smiles at Niles as he sets an empty plate before him, a glass of water.  _ “Kitchen aromas aren’t very homely. It’s not comforting, cheery or kind. It’s sizzling blood and the unholy stench of murder.”  _

Gavin slides into the chair across from Connor. “Don’t quote Moz at me.” 

Niles winks at Connor as he slides the ‘tofu’ onto his plate. Connor chuckles. Niles, hypocritical and mostly evil, made a wonderful steak for breakfast. 

It’s North, served with eggs and toast.

Gavin devours his toast, slathering it with butter and jelly. Connor watches him with disgust, delicately cutting into his steak and and popping a piece in his mouth. It’s chewy, decadent. Niles is amazing at seasoning human flesh in a way that draws from the natural bland acidity. Struggling not to lose his composure, Connor eats slowly. 

He jumps when Gavin laughs, mumbling something to Niles about tofu again. Connor looks to Niles on his left, wiping drool from the corner of his mouth. Connor raises his eyebrow. “Don’t stare at me,” Niles shrugs, biting steak from his fork. There’s sweat on his forehead. He’s trying to show restraint, just like Connor is. It’s comforting to know that Connor isn’t the only one. “It’s just… really good tofu.” 

“You’re insane.” Gavin nudges him under the table, talking around a mouthful of eggs. 

Niles’ hand shakes, his fork shifting ever so slightly. Not enough for Gavin to notice, but Connor’s aware. He understands. 

Consuming human flesh does things to your body, your brain. Makes it hard to function without it once you get addicted. Causes trauma in your brain, warping it to tremble, to vibrate when you finally get what you crave. 

Connor knows this firsthand. It’s hard to go a few weeks without it. Usually, when he and Niles first kill someone, they dedicate a few hours to gorge themselves. To finally feed that numbing, consistent hunger, sedate the pain that comes with want. 

A wave of pleasure, better than any orgasm Connor’s ever had. A release. 

It’s those moments that usually evolve into trysts. Connor can’t contain himself if he’s gone weeks without it. He’ll pounce on Niles, beg him for something, anything to relieve him further. They haven’t gone this long without food since way before Gavin barged into their life. 

Connor hates that he’s here for this. That he’s just sitting there, oblivious to the pleasure, to the wonderful thing unfolding right in front of him.

Looking at Niles again, Connor is saddened that they can’t go any further or stuff their faces like he knows they both want to. Still eating slowly, Connor reaches under the table to take Niles’ hand in his own. 

Niles’ squeezes Connor’s palm. 

It’s comforting.

He’s returning the sentiment.

Connor stands from the table, taking one last bite of steak and clearing his throat. He downs his glass of water. “I’m going back to sleep.” 

Gavin returns to conversing as Connor walks back to his room, leaning over to Niles and continuing to make fun of him. Connor sits on the edge of his bed, running his palms down his thighs. He’s antsy now. He sits, waiting for the sound of dishes clinking together in the sink, footsteps in the hall. The laughter following the opening and closing of the front door. A car engine in the driveway. 

With the house to himself, Connor takes his clothes off, bringing his sketchbook and pencils to watch cooking shows and sketch while completely nude. Something about being naked is calming to Connor’s nerves. 

He sketches North while a british chef screams at the incompetent employees of a failing restaurant. Connor draws her before and after entering his home. Her face, light, pretty, full of life. Fiery red hair in a loose braid, soft, knowing smirks covering her lips. He sketches her naked body, on the bed. Legs spread and wanting, begging. 

He draws her face again, twisted in pain, blood oozing from her lips, dripping down her chin. And finally, her bones. Admiring his work, Connor can’t wait to see it compared to his other art. He sketches every single victim this way, capturing their beauty. 

Suddenly, Connor remembers that North’s clothes must still be in Niles’ room. He wonders if Gavin saw them.

He pushes open the bedroom door, looking at the carpet. It’s clean. Connor rummages through Niles’ dirty clothes hamper, sifting through turtlenecks and dress shirts. His hands graze some of Gavin’s jeans, his v-necks. Gross. Niles does laundry for him now?

Alas, none of North’s clothes. Connor sighs a breath of relief. Niles isn’t stupid, and Connor needs to remember that.

Something buzzes inside a drawer on Niles’ desk. Frowning, Connor moves to it, opening the drawer and peering inside. There are notepads and pens. He moves them to find the source of the vibration, his eyes landing on a cellphone and a colorful set of keys. 

He holds the phone, peering at the screen. It blinks to life as it receives another call. A contact picture and name flashes across the screen: a blonde man dressed in drag.  _ Simon. _ Frowning, Connor flips the phone over, admiring the case. It holds debit cards and a driver's license, and it’s design features a compass, the N highlighted in bright red. 

  1. _North. North’s phone._



Connor drops it on the floor. 

It rings a third time, the screen flashing the words ‘9 missed calls’ in between rings. Nine calls. People are already starting to miss her. Fuck.

Slowly, Connor turns the phone off, grabbing the keys and moving from Niles’ room to the kitchen, hiding them in the drawer below the sink. If it’s in Niles’ room, they’ll forget that it’s there. They have to destroy it, but Connor will leave that for Niles. 

He spends the rest of the day napping and lounging on the couch. Around noon, he opens the fridge and finds a small container with his name on it. Removing the lid, Connor’s nostrils are met with cooked meat and spices. His eyes roll back into his head as he quickly shoves the container in the microwave, inhaling the sweet smell of cooked flesh. His mouth waters. 

God damn, Connor loves Niles.

Sitting back on the couch, steam rising off of the container, Connor switches back to the british kitchen show, not even bothering to pair the meat with anything. 

He eats it with his bare hands.

It’s amazing.

Connor tries to thank Niles when he gets home, approaching the door with a wide smile, his boxers low on his hips. 

To Connor’s dismay, it’s not Niles on the front porch.

Gavin blinks up at him, flicking his eyes down at Connor’s bare stomach before back up at his face. Connor frowns deeply. “What are you doing here?” 

Shrugging, Gavin tries to push past Connor. Connor blocks him in the doorway. “Ni is on his way over, he said I could go ahead and wait for him.” 

An awkward shuffle. Connor keeps blocking him. “You’re not allowed in without Niles.” 

“Says who? You?” 

“Yes. Go wait in the driveway.” 

“Fuck that,” Gavin puts his hand on the doorframe. “Ni’s at the gym, still. He won’t be here for like thirty minutes.” 

“So, go wait on your tricycle.” 

Gavin looks out at the driveway, his motorcycle gathering snow. “It’s cold, Connor. I’m not waitin’ out here, let me-”

Connor steps forward, pushing against Gavin’s chest. “Try to get past me then.” He tips his head.

It’s funny. Gavin is twice Connor’s width. He and Niles share the same meathead love for exercise and healthy living, bodybuilding and the like. They’re both muscled, toned, strong. But, Connor has a solid two inches on Gavin, and he steps back, away from the doorway.

Despite his size, Gavin is afraid of Connor.

Precious. 

Sputtering, Gavin balls his hands into fists. “Look. I know you don’t like me, but-”

“Exactly. I don’t like you, so get away from me.” 

Connor goes to slam the door in his face, but Gavin stops it with one meaty hand. He continues. Bold of him. “I get that you’ve got that whole  _ protective brother _ thing goin’ on, but you need to know that Ni and I are pretty serious.” 

“Oh yeah?” Connor snorts, shaking his head. “Whatever, fuck toy. Get off my-”

“No, Dude. Like, we’re legit.” Gavin sighs, releasing the door. Connor hesitates to close it. “I know that you and Ni aren’t very talkative, like, you don’t really talk about me or my relationship with him.” Relationship. That’s pretentious. Using someone for sex doesn’t classify as a relationship. “But, I want you to know that I’m serious about Ni, okay? I really like him. No matter how hard you push back against me, or how many times you make me stand out here in the snow, I’m not goin’ anywhere.” 

Connor shuts the door on him, retreating to his room to go get ready for work. He broods on that, wondering who the hell Gavin thinks he is, barging into Connor’s house and trying to steal Connor’s brother. Asshole. 

He pulls his coat on before leaving, holding the door open briefly. Gavin is leaned against his motorcycle, arms folded against the snow. He perks up, eyes light, expecting for Connor to let him in now, since he’s leaving. 

Smirking, Connor locks the front door. 

He doesn’t say anything to Gavin as he gets in his car, leaves the driveway, heads to work.

Hank is here tonight as well, seated in the same booth. Connor’s assigned to a different section of tables, so he’s not Hank’s server. He busies himself with work until the restaurant clears, a few late night groups hanging around here and there. Hank is scrolling through something on his cellphone. Connor slides down into the booth, setting his tray on top of the table. 

Glancing up, Hank locks his phone, the screen going dark. “Connor Elias,” Hank clicks his tongue, swirling the liquor in his glass, ice tapping against the inside. “A pleasure, really.” 

Connor ignores that. “So, what’s your deal?”

“Hmm? My what?”

“Your deal,” Connor repeats, resting his elbows on the table. “You’re an old man sitting in a fucking Red Lobster alone at eleven o’clock at night.” He shrugs. “What’s up with that? You don’t have friends or kids or anything?” 

Hank’s shoulders tense. Connor’s eyes widen. He struck something there. A wound. “No. Not really.” He drinks from his glasses, hissing a breath. “I just like to drink in peace.” 

Laughing, Connor leans in a little closer. “You could do that at home.” He scrutinizes Hank’s appearance, dragging his eyes over every scuff in his jacket, every hole in his shirt. “You’re either homeless or just lonely. You’re here because you want attention.” 

“Huh,” Hank’s laugh is melodic. Deep and smooth. “You’re very observant. And a piece of shit.” 

“Sure am!” Connor grins. “But, you’re in luck, since I’m offering you the attention you crave.” 

Seconds tick by for a moment before Hank drains the rest of his drink. “So, what about you? What’s  _ your  _ deal, why are you here?” 

Connor shrugs again, shoulders touching his earlobes. “I work here.” 

Hank laughs again, belly shaking. Connor gulps. He isn’t sure why, or what’s happening to his brain. Maybe it’s North digesting slowly in his stomach, but something about Hank makes Connor drool. He wipes his mouth as Hank asks more intrusive questions. “Alright, but this place is shitty. Why do you work here? Student loans?” 

“Oh. No. I, uh,” Connor pauses, thinking about what all to reveal. He ponders his plan, thinking of how he wants to make betraying Hank more painful, more delicious. Maybe he should be open. “Actually, my college was paid for in full. I dropped out, so it wasn’t too bad.” 

Whistling, Hank nods. “Rich parents, and still a drop out?” 

“Something like that.” 

Hank watches him closely, as if trying to see if Connor’s telling the truth. Connor’s a horrible liar, and he knows he wouldn’t be able to get away with it, even if he tried. “Why’d you drop out?” 

“My, uh… my mom wanted me to be a doctor.” Connor sighs. “I thought I could quit and be an artist.”

“Oof.” Hank shakes his head. “That’s rough. How old were you?” 

“Twenty-two, almost.” Connor shrugs. “When I was actually in school, I worked here just to keep myself busy when I wasn’t studying. I quit and, you know,” He drums his fingers against his tray. “Still haven’t left.” 

Hank watches Connor, lips parted ever so slightly.

His front teeth are gapped. 

Connor leans his head on his hand, feigning genuine interest. “What do you do for work?” 

He’s surprised when Hank shakes his head, drinking from his glass, trying to get the last drops of liquor from the ice. “No.” Connor frowns. “Sorry, Kid. I don’t know you well enough to give you my life story. Thanks for asking, though.” 

Connor raises his eyebrows, lips pursed. “So, get to know me.” 

A throat clears from across the room. Connor looks towards his boss, gesturing to a table of loud drunks. Begrudgingly, Connor stands. Hank grabs his wrist. “What time do you get off?” 

Tugging his arm free, Connor grits his teeth. “One.” 

“Lets go get a drink.” 

Connor smiles, caught off guard. “You already have a drink.” 

“Another drink.” 

Connor gets back to work, after agreeing. If Niles has Gavin over, it won’t hurt to stay out a little late. It’s part of his plan, anyway, to seduce Hank. One drink to kickstart his plan, throw it into motion.

Once Connor closes, they leave to a seedy bar that isn’t far from the restaurant. Connor is sure to fluff up his hair in the car, shine his glasses, unbutton his shirt a few too many buttons, unveiling dark chest hair. 

To Connor’s dismay, Hank is actually quite charming. 

He talks pretty openly about everything except his personal life. Everything Hank talks about, he discusses with passion, hands waving, shoulders shaking. It’s almost admirable, how kind he is. He asks Connor questions when Connor speaks, and it’s one of the only times Connor has been out with someone besides Niles who he can tell really listens. 

Connor’s caught off guard when Hank asks, “What kind of art do you do?” 

“What?” 

“You said you dropped out to be an artist. What do you do? What’s your medium?” 

No one’s ever taken interest in Connor’s work before. Niles hates it. “Oh. I used to do acrylic on canvas. Landscapes and city skylines, stuff like that. Sometimes I dabbled in expressionism. Lately I’ve just been sketching people and practicing faces, bodies.” 

“You got pictures on you? I’d love to take a look.”

Connor gives a strangled sort of cry. “Uh, yeah. Here,” He fishes for his phone, scrolling through his camera gallery. He pulls up old shots of blocky, vibrant paintings. Hank scrolls through them, staring at each one with a soft smile. 

“These are really good, Con.” 

Con. No one has ever called him that. 

Hank takes a shot, nudging Connor to do the same. 

He ends up drinking more than he thought he would. It’s weird. Connor hasn’t laughed this much in a long time. Hank pats his shoulder as Connor drinks water, both of them trying to combat the alcohol. “Okay. Speed round. Tell me random shit about yourself.”

Connor snorts, shoves a cracker into his mouth. “Whatever. You first.” 

Hank smirks. “I only ever listen to heavy metal.” 

“Huh,” Connor laughs again, arm resting on Hank’s bicep. “I knew I had you pegged for a metalhead.” He tries to think of random shit that Hank doesn’t know. “I have a twin.” 

“Freaky,” Hank whistles. “My dog is you sized.” 

“Me sized?” 

“He’s huge. St. Bernard.” 

Connor tells Hank that he’s adopted. Hank focuses on that instead of saying something else about himself. Connor sighs. “I don’t know. My mom works with kids and stuff, and after a while she wanted kids of her own. She adopted me and my brother to keep us together.” 

Hank blinks, swallowing a mouthful of water. “Were you old enough to remember your birth parents?” 

Hank is nice, and his intentions seem good, but Connor lies. “No.” 

The air is cold when they walk back to their cars, and Hank puts his arm around Connor’s shoulder, shaking him slightly. His torso is soft. Warm. “When can I see you again?” 

“You know where to find me.” Connor gestures to his car, the apron sprawled out on the front seat. “I don’t usually take time off, I’m always there, shoveling biscuits into my mouth.” 

Hank sighs. “Alright.” He rubs his hand over Connor’s face, brushing the bridge of Connor’s nose with his thumb. “Can I kiss you?” 

Connor blinks. His plan is working better than he thought it would. Hank is already falling for him. 

The problem, is that Connor  _ really _ wants to kiss him. The moment is good. Right. Snow falls gently in their hair, the glow from the bar’s sign illuminating Hank’s face in vibrant blue and purple. It would be romantic. Connor can’t remember the last time he  _ wanted _ to kiss someone, rather than knowing he needs to kiss them to lure them home with him. 

Thinking of how much better Hank’s expression will be in death if Connor makes him wait a little bit, Connor says, “No.” 

Hank’s smile fades, hands dropping to his sides. “Oh, shit. Sorry, Connor. God damn I’m stupid.” He laughs. “I shouldn’t have assumed, wow. I’m… God, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“No, Hank,” Connor sighs. “I like you, but… I think we should wait.” 

“What?”

“Earlier you told me that you don’t know me well enough to tell me about your personal life.” Connor opens his car door, sinking into the front seat. “Let me get to know you, and then we’ll see how I feel about kissing.” He winks before shutting the door, shoving the key into the ignition. 

He drives off, leaving Hank on the curb outside of the bar. 

Niles is at the kitchen table when Connor gets home. The house smells strongly of cooked meat, like lamb. Connor hangs up his coat, kicks off his non-slips. “Hey,” 

“Hmm,” Niles is scrolling through something on his phone.

Connor checks the time. “Jesus, it’s pretty late, Ni. Why are you still awake?” 

Shrugging, Niles sets his phone face down on the table. “Gavin and I had a… disagreement.” 

“Oh?” 

“Did you call him a fuck toy?” 

Blinking, Connor slides down into the chair across from Niles. “Yeah…”

Niles exhales slowly. He’s upset. “You gave him the impression that I don’t care about him. That he’s not important to me.” Blue eyes pierce Connor’s exterior. Connor could cry. He hates when Niles is upset. “That I’m using him.”

Connor gulps. “Are you… not?” 

The table shakes as Niles collapses forward onto it, his forehead smacking against the wood. Connor wrings his hands together, nervous. “No, Connor, I’m not.” Niles sits up, folding his arms on the table. “I know you don’t like to talk about Gavin, and you don’t like him, that’s fine. But,”

“Hey, let’s not do this.” Connor stands, shaking his head. “I’m going to bed.” 

“Connor,” Niles stands, too, grabbing Connor’s arm and yanking him back to the table. He’s strong. “Just fucking listen to me.” Connor tries to claw his way out of Niles’ grasp, arm feeling crushed. Bruised. “I want you to stop being mean to Gavin. We’ve been dating for a year, and it’s not fair of you to continue to treat him poorly when you don’t even know him.” Connor sinks his teeth into Niles’ shoulder. Niles doesn’t budge. “I know that you’re jealous, or angry, and that’s okay. But, please don’t take it out on my boyfriend, he hasn’t done anything to you.

“If you’re going to be rude, be rude to me. I’m the one you’re mad at, don’t hurt Gavin anymore.”

His grip stays strong, but he stops talking. Connor releases his jaw, pulling away from Niles’ shoulder. “I’m not mad.”

“You obviously are.” 

Connor flails his free arm, smacking against Niles’ chest. “It’s just not fair that I have to change how I act in  _ my _ house because  _ your _ idiot is always here.” Niles finally lets go. Connor steps back, but doesn’t run. He wants to fight. “I hate that I don’t get to spend time with you anymore. We were so close and Gavin ruined it. He’s always here, I can’t even talk to you anymore. Just last night, you went to sleep with Gavin after-”

He stops himself. Hopefully his insinuation is clear.

It is. “Is that what this is about?” Niles runs his hand through his hair. “Is that why you’re mad at me?” 

Connor pauses. “Part of it. But not all.” Niles sighs, rubbing his temple. “I just… I liked how things were. I miss,” He gestures between them. “I miss  _ us.” _

Sighing again, Niles moves to the microwave, pulling a plate of meat out and setting it on the table. “I’m sorry. I haven’t been… attentive. We didn’t even get to eat how we wanted this morning.” 

Instinctively, Connor drops into the chair, mouth watering. He doesn’t bother with finding a fork, shoveling lukewarm flesh into his mouth. Niles’ hands rest on Connor’s shoulders as he stands behind the chair, watching Connor eat. 

Connor holds a hand up, two fingers outstretched. Niles leans forward, taking Connor’s fingers into his mouth and licking them clean.

It doesn’t take long for Niles to pull another chair beside Connor, and soon they’re both devouring the plate’s contents. Ravenous, primal hunger kicking in, their brains focusing on one thing. 

It’s wonderful. This is what Connor missed. What he craved. Spending time with Niles, doing what they’re good at. It’s great. 

The flavor is like a symphony. Various spices and herbs coming together in a beautiful, harmonious song. Connor’s brain vibrates in his skull, words and sounds ping ponging off of the sides and jumbling themselves around. 

He stops. Sits upright, staring at Niles.

An image flashes before Connor’s eyes. He’s reminded of something.

Niles sits up, too, licking juice and grease from the side of his hand. He speaks through a mouthful of food. “What’s wrong?” 

Connor’s shoulders feel tense again. His mind won’t stop replaying the image. 

_ Niles, smaller, covered in blood, gorging himself with raw flesh. A hand pushing Connor’s head back to his own food, the smell of salt and blood overwhelming his nostrils. A firm command. “Eat.”  _

Shaking his head, Connor tries to dismiss the thought before he whispers, “Dad.” 

Shivering, Niles swallows what he was chewing, reaching to the center of the table for a napkin. He wipes his hands, his mouth, then passes a clean napkin to Connor. “We’re not him.” 

“I know,” Connor cleans his mouth. “I know. It just reminded me, that’s all.” He leans his head back against the chair, shutting his eyes. Niles’ eyes are on him, he can feel it. The gaze travels to Connor’s legs, and he covers them immediately, hiding his arousal. “Sorry,” He whispers. “I know that now’s a bad time, and,” 

The chair creaks, and there’s footsteps growing far away. Connor sighs, not bothering to look. He knows how easy it is to freak Niles out, and he should have known better than to bring up their childhood. It’s hard for Niles, way harder than it ever is for Connor to think about it. 

He hopes that he falls asleep like this, so he won’t have to walk to his room, so he won’t have to apologize to Niles. 

It’s surprising when the footsteps return. Connor still doesn’t open his eyes, but the chair creaks again, and Niles is back by his side. Connor wonders where he went before- a zipper makes a sound. 

Niles is unzipping Connor’s pants.

Connor keeps his eyes shut tight. Something about this seems too familiar. It’s bad to get his hopes up. This will be fast, like last night. A quick hand job before Niles grumbles off to his room, nothing more. 

And then, it’s not Niles’ hand that greets Connor’s cock, but his lips, pressing a soft kiss to the tip. Another second, and Connor is engulfed, his whole body shivering at the sensation of Niles’ mouth. Hot, wet, a million times better than his hand. Connor’s eyes fly open, his brain operating on autopilot.

He tangles his fingers in Niles’ hair, widening the space between his legs. Back arching, hips rolling upwards ever so slightly. He tugs on Niles’ hair once his nose reaches Connor’s thigh, pulling him slowly all the way up before pushing him quickly back down. 

Niles doesn’t gag. He’s good at this. 

Daringly, he scrapes his teeth on the underside of Connor’s cock, bobbing his head and reaching his own legs to adjust himself, the fabric of his pajama bottoms already tented. 

Gasping, Connor thrusts up into Niles’ throat, grip tightening in his hair. “I’m sorry,” He says, trying to stay grounded, calm.

Niles pulls off, one hand moving to stroke Connor slowly while the other reaches up to wipe his mouth. “Don’t be.” Connor whines at the loss of heat, untangling his fingers and letting Niles stand. Niles reaches down to pull off Connor’s non-slips, his socks. He yanks at his slacks, and Connor gulps, wiggling out of his boxers and dropping them on the floor. 

Niles grabs a bottle from the table, popping open the cap, and Connor realizes why he left. 

Connor lets his legs fall open, sinking down further in the chair as Niles coats his fingers with lubricant. He moves out of his own chair to drop to his knees in front of Connor, running his clean hand along the inside of Connor’s thighs, teasing. Connor laughs, shutting his eyes, listening to Niles’ ragged breathing. 

Something about this is funny.

He chokes on his laughter as Niles jams a finger inside of him, coughing out a harsh gasp. It’s been a while since Connor brought a man home for them to eat, longer since Connor has been with Niles this way. It’s the best kind of pain, sending prickles up his spine, making the hair on his arms, his legs stand. 

All Connor ever wants is to feel close to Niles, and this is almost it. It’s unbelievable, crazy that it’s finally happening again. Connor will be closer to him than ever before, they’ll share this special moment, just the two of them. No one else could ever make Connor feel like this, or understand how Connor’s feelings. No one else could make Connor crave this kind of pain, this kind of pleasure.

It’s another secret. One more thing that they’ll keep to themselves.

Niles adds another finger. Connor can feel them as they curl upwards, hitting that perfect spot. His legs shake, and he struggles to stay in the chair. Connor’s muscles want him to collapse, fall to the floor on top of Niles, but he grips the chair’s legs, holds himself in place. Niles’ free hand works at Connor’s shirt, unbuttoning and pulling away. He presses his hand against Connor’s stomach, the slight pressure making Connor’s head spin.

Three fingers, and Niles is spreading Connor open, preparing him for something way better. Two fingers work against Connor as the middle stays pressed against Connor’s prostate, making Connor’s eyes water. Niles leans forward, hand still against Connor’s stomach, to lick the underside of Connor’s cock slowly, methodically. 

He holds unwavering eye contact. 

Connor starts crying.

Niles yanks on Connor’s legs, making him yelp. Connor lands firmly in Niles’ arms, gasping when Niles stands upright, holding him in place with one arm while the other continues to massage inside of him. He twists, bending forward to grab the bottle before walking Connor over to the counter. The marble is cold against Connor’s bare ass, and he shivers, slipping his shirt the rest of the way off. Niles pulls his fingers out for a brief moment, long enough for him to pull his sweater off over his head.

The action makes his hair stand up, askew, and reveals his tattoos in their full glory.

Winding swirls surrounding skulls, bugs, churches. Demons and snakes coiling around his wrists, covering every inch of pale skin with black ink. They stretch upwards, over the entirety of his arms up to shoulders, down his back, curling up into his hairline on the back of his neck. His broad chest and chiseled stomach seem even paler when compared to them, bare of any tattoos, any scars. 

His necklace stays in place, key jingling against his collarbone. 

Before the fingers make their way back inside, Connor sits upright, running his hands along Niles’ arms and holding the back of his neck.

Panting, Connor kisses Niles’ lips.

Niles does not move. He doesn’t part his lips, or shut his eyes. He’s frozen, hand hovering just above Connor’s legs. Connor tries to make him enjoy it, running hands along his jaw, poking at his lips with Connor’s own tongue, trying to push past and get inside. And still, Niles does nothing. He doesn’t kiss Connor back.

He never does.

Connor used to think it was because Niles was just bad at kissing. But then, Gavin started spending time at the house. Connor’s seen them kiss, he’s come home late a few times to Niles and Gavin on the couch. He’s peeked at them from behind his bedroom door, watching them kiss. Watching Niles’ tongue move with Gavin’s, hearing Niles moan into Gavin’s mouth. 

Now, Connor knows that Niles isn’t a bad kisser at all. He just doesn’t want to kiss Connor. Connor wonders why, but he doesn’t ask. He doesn’t want to ruin their moment. 

He pulls away. Niles stops acting frozen, forcing fingers back inside of Connor and using his free hand to tug on Connor’s cock. 

Connor can’t help but feel disappointed. 

Maybe if he’s good enough at this, if he makes sure Niles knows how bad he wants it, Niles will change his mind. So, Connor grips the edge of the counter, rocking down against Niles’ hand, soft gasps bursting from his lips. He bucks up into Niles’ hand, shutting his eyes as Niles’ movements speed, coaxing an orgasm from him with quiet, stone-faced grace. Connor shutters, leaning forward over his hand, resting his forehead on Niles’ chest. 

Niles pulls his hands away, leaving Connor feeling empty. “You okay?” 

Connor nods, clutching Niles’ chest. “Mhmm.”

“Do you need to stop?”

Desperate, Connor moves his hands to Niles’ shoulders,  pulling him down to Connor’s eye level. “Please, don’t ever fucking stop.”

Smirking, Niles shrugs Connor’s hands off so he can slip off his pajama bottoms, his boxers. Connor’s hands are on him in seconds, desperate to feel every inch of him. Needy fingers grabbing at his hips, his ass, his cock. It’s been so long, too long since Connor’s seen Niles this way. He feels greedy, like he has to savor every second of this, a little voice in the back of his head telling him that he won’t get to see this again. If he does, it could be months. The last time was a year ago.

Connor yells internally at his brain, begging it to stop jumbling his thoughts, pounding in his skull. He’s trying to focus, he wants to see and think about only Niles. Niles. Niles. His thoughts are loud. Almost loud enough to drown out the sound of the bottle hitting the counter again, now empty. 

Niles bats Connor’s hands away so he can slather lube on his cock, running his thumb along the tip. Connor watches, bottom lip stuck between his teeth. He reaches down to touch his own, wincing a little at his fingers as he encourages it back to life. Niles pushes against Connor’s knees, spreading his legs wider, his calves resting against the cold marble. Connor leans back on his hands, arching his back, inching forward a bit off the counter.

Warm hands press bruises into his hips as Niles lines himself up. Connor moans low, his voice soft and shaky as Niles pushes inside of him. He can feel himself stretching to accommodate the size of Niles’ cock, nails scratching the marble countertop. Niles buries his face into Connor’s shoulder, his breath warm on Connor’s skin. His hips meet Connor’s ass, and they both sigh, breathing heavily for a few seconds, getting used to feeling each other this way. 

Tears blur Connor’s vision. He loves this feeling. It doesn’t matter what they’re doing, or how wrong it probably is, but Connor loves feeling close to Niles. This moment, soft, tender, forbidden, immoral. It’s his favorite feeling. Like he and Niles are the only people that exist, and they exist only for each other. Niles is the only thing that matters to Connor. This feeling, this closeness is what matters. 

Connor could die and it would be fine, knowing that he felt this. That he and Niles shared this connection.

Niles is an empath. Connor doesn’t know what that’s like, but he hopes it means that Niles can feel how happy Connor is. How relieved. How, finally, Connor’s brain is clear, his thoughts aren’t jumbled. 

More importantly, Connor hopes that Niles shares this sentiment. That this is as important to Niles as it is to Connor. 

Niles rolls his hips, and Connor’s eyes roll backwards in their sockets, eyelids fluttering shut. He grips Niles’ shoulders, fingernails digging into ink filled skin as Niles thrusts up into him. Niles exhales, the sound low, and Connor thinks this is probably the only sound he’ll be able to get from Niles. Picking up the pace a bit, Niles’ grip on Connor’s hips grow tighter. Soft moans drip off of Connor’s tongue with each upward thrust. Little “ah”s echoing throughout the kitchen.

It’s soft. Connor likes this, but part of him craves more. He knows it’s because it’s been so long, but he gets the suspicion that Niles might be trying to avoid hurting him. Connor reaches up to wipe at the corner of his eye, unsurprisingly still finding fresh tears. He leans forward, nipping at Niles’ ear with his teeth. “Harder,”

Niles shakes his head, his breath shaky. “You’ll get overstimulated.”

“I don’t care,” Connor scratches at his shoulders, pausing in between words to moan at Niles’ soft thrusts. “I can handle it.” 

“Concon,”

Connor shivers. “Really, I can.” He kisses Niles’ jaw. It doesn’t illicit a response. “Please,” He adds, fingernails scratching into Niles’ skin. 

After watching him for a second, Niles compiles, hurrying his movements, hip bones digging into Connor’s ass every time they meet. Connor squeezes his eyes shut, leaning back on his hands once more.

One hard, pounding thrust makes Connor smack the back of his head on a cabinet.

They both yelp.

“Fucking shit,” Niles’ hand joins Connor’s in his hair, holding the growing bump. His cock slips out, and Connor slides back onto the counter. “Are you okay?” 

Connor nods softly, lips twisting. “I’ll be fine. Let’s keep going.”

“Connor, you should put ice-”

“I’ll do it later, Ni.” Connor reaches forward, fumbling with Niles’ cock, trying to find where he needs to be angled. He squeaks when Niles grabs his hips again, pulling Connor off the counter in one smooth movement. He stands Connor upright, and Connor pouts. “I told you, I’m fine. You don’t need to baby me.”

“I’m not.” Niles’ hands find Connor’s shoulders and turn him around, pressing his body up against the counter with Niles’ own. Connor exhales a sharp breath, feeling the heat of Niles’ cock pressed up against his ass. Niles wipes sweat from Connor’s neck before biting into it. Connor throws his head back. “Like this is probably easier.”

Niles pushes Connor forward until his stomach is flush with the cold countertop. Strong hands rest on Connor’s back, his head, holding him in place. Connor winces, his head throbbing, as Niles pushes back into him. They heave a collective sigh, both bothered by the sudden loss of feeling. Of closeness. Niles waits for a minute, massaging Connor’s lower back, giving him a moment to get used to it.

Connor could murder him for the slowness. “Ni, come on,” Connor grips the counter. “Fuck me,” Niles obliges, and Connor realizes he shouldn’t have been so demanding. 

He most certainly was not ready.

Every one of Niles’ movements hits Connor exactly where he needs to, leaving Connor drooling and gasping against the counter. It’s intense, Connor’s arms straining against the edge of the counter and knocking things off of it. Glass shatters by his feet, and he really isn’t sure what broke, nor does he care. Moans drip off his tongue as quickly as his shuttered breathing, and he can feel the tears streaming from his eyes and onto the counter, in his hair. 

He can feel his hip bones bruising as they continuously press into the marble. Every pounding, gut wrenching thrust nearly destroying him, his only respite the millisecond in between them, when Niles pulls back. Every time he thinks he has a moment to come to his senses, to compose himself, Niles slams back in. There’s no time for him to recover.

Connor knows that he’s talking. Probably entirely too much for this situation. Moans are quickly replaced with short words, hissed through Connor’s clenched teeth. “Fuck. Harder. Fuck. Yeah. God. Fuck me.”

He’s close, and something about that is funny. He hasn’t been touched since his first orgasm, and it’s hilarious that he can already feel a second building in his stomach. Comical that just the rough, cold marble scraping against his cock while Niles pounds into him is enough to make Connor lose all control. The counter against his hips grows warm. Sticky. 

Connor gets it now, the overstimulation.

His head swirls, jumbled thoughts returning. Screams of old victims, innocent people Connor seduced for food. Happy feelings and bad ones. He sees Niles, younger, kinder, wearing less black. 

Everything aches. Niles is too much. It’s painful now.

More thoughts, swirling memories. He sees Amanda, bringing them into her home with stern but loving affection. Raising them to be men. Connor laughs, suddenly wondering what she would think if she saw her sons like this. How disappointed and disgusted she would be. She would hate them. 

Connor sees his birth mother, his father.

And then, he sees Dad.

One last devastating hit against his prostate, and suddenly, Connor is full, his insides feeling warm, sticky. And then, empty as Niles pulls out, come starting to drip down Connor’s thighs. His senses return, his eyesight clears. Connor stays pressed against the counter as Niles releases him, too tired to stand. He can hear Niles’ breathing. It’s steadier than Connor’s. He sounds calm.

Footsteps, padding down the hallway. A door shuts. The shower starts running. 

Slowly, Connor peels himself off of the counter. His skin sticks in certain places, and he has to pull harder, ripping himself away. Reaching up to wipe his eyes, Connor ignores the pain searing deep in his bones and the come still seeping out of him.

Connor blinks, and the kitchen is empty. Niles left.

It’s odd. Connor feels lonely.

He sinks to the floor, careful not to sit in any glass. He brings his knees up to his chest, ignoring how difficult and painful it is to move. 

It’s hard not to think about how nice it would be if Niles would stay after. If they could shower together, fall asleep tangled in each other’s arms. 

If they weren’t related, maybe things would be different. Maybe Niles would stay. Maybe he would kiss Connor, or tell Connor how he’s feeling.

Maybe he would love Connor.

  
  


_ Step on the glass, staple your tongue. Bury a friend, try to wake up. Cannibal class, killing the son. Bury a friend. I wanna end me.  _

  
  


Plates shatter in a small, cluttered kitchen, shards breaking and clattering to the floor. The boy, sitting at the table, covers his ears. 

It’s too loud.

The other keeps his head buried in his arms, hiding from the commotion. 

Screaming, shouting, name calling.

A man, arms folded, watching from the living room. Observing two people, a man and a woman, once lovers, as they claim they hate each other. That they never should have married, accusing each other of cheating, of abuse. 

His fist collides with her face. She stumbles to the ground. Her belly is rounded, formed around a child.

The man smiles, still watching. He winks at the boy covering his ears.

The boy winks back.

  
  


A week passes. Niles never mentions what happened in the kitchen.

They fall into a silent routine. Niles leaves early, Connor spends all day in bed, Niles walks in the front door as Connor is leaving, and they don’t speak. Some nights, Niles doesn’t come home, and Connor waits in the kitchen for him, silently praying that he can convince Niles that they should do that again. 

Those nights go by slowly, and the mornings that follow, Niles stumbles in the front door an hour before he has to be at work. He showers, changes, and leaves, ignoring Connor completely. 

It’s sad.

Connor starts staying out later with Hank. He speaks more openly, despite not knowing about Hank’s personal life, and is surprised to find that he actually enjoys Hank’s company. It’s great having a friend, at the very least, if not someone who’s attracted to Connor. Connor is afraid of admitting that he’s attracted to Hank, too. His plan, seducing and killing Hank, keeps getting prolonged. He likes spending time with the guy.

Weird.

He comes home after a particularly flirtatious round of drinks, a big smile on his face. It’s better, dealing with Niles’ silent treatment when he has someone to talk to and hang out with. 

Unlike other nights, Niles is awake, on the couch, staring at the television. Connor’s heart speeds. Finally, they have a moment to talk. 

Rounding the couch, Connor’s smile fades as he spots Gavin, curled up underneath a blanket, tucked under Niles’ arm. Defeated, Connor keeps walking towards his room, head low. Gavin speaks up, catching him off guard. “Uh, Hey. You wanna watch this with us?” 

Connor blinks, hovering, holding his ground. He should sleep, especially if Gavin’s here. It’s been tense between him and Niles, and he can’t be sure what his mind will make him do. 

Niles nods at him, moving the blanket and making room on the couch. 

Connor’s heart could explode.

Watching a movie with Niles. And, Gavin, but Connor mostly pretends that he’s not there. Niles rests both of his arms on the back of the couch, so Connor leans into him, feeling the warmth of his torso. He doesn’t fight. 

The movie itself is gory. Graphic depictions of a serial killer butchering innocent women for fun. Gavin whimpers through the whole thing, head buried into Niles’ chest, hands clutching Niles’ stomach and legs. He’s afraid. This movie frightens him.

Connor looks up when Niles nudges him, eyes wide, hopeful. Niles glances down at Gavin, then winks.

It takes Connor a second to understand.

If only Gavin knew that he was cuddling someone just as awful as the man on screen. 

That night makes Connor feel a bit better. Niles offers a soft smile when he and Gavin leave for work the next morning, making Connor’s stomach feel like maggots are wriggling around inside. 

Maybe the expression is typically butterflies. Connor doesn’t care. Maggots seem more accurate to how he’s really feeling.

Work goes the same way. Small tips, a few rude customers, chatting with Hank, discussing which bar they should go to after Connor’s shift. Connor compliments Hank’s shirt, open a few buttons and revealing grey hair swirling over a faded tattoo. Since he feels better about Niles, Connor can flirt freely, more comfortable. Hank’s laughter is contagious.

The bell on the door signals a new customer. Odd, considering it’s usually just Hank this late at night. Connor glances up at the front. Three men, huddled together, wiping snow from their coats. Looking around, Connor realizes that the hostess is nowhere to be seen. Sighing, and apologizing to Hank, Connor trudges over to the podium, filling his hands with menus and silverware. “Good Evening. Just three?” 

“We’re not eating, actually. Uh,” The man in the middle seems… familiar. His voice is smooth like honey and his eyes are astounding. Connor wonders where he knows this guy from. “We were here a few weeks ago. I think you might have been our server?” 

_ Oh. _ That makes sense. Connor doesn’t usually have customers return to talk to him like this. “Right. How can I help you?” 

The man shifts, pretty eyes blinking slowly. “We were here with our friend, and she stayed late trying to hook up with you, so you might remember her. North Kelly?” 

Connor’s blood runs cold.

“North. Of course,” Connor tries to stay calm, feigning nonchalance. He’s a terrible liar. Hopefully, they won’t notice. 

The man nods. “Good. She won’t answer our calls or anything. We think something bad might have happened to her.” 

Connor widens his eyes. “Oh my god…”

“Uh, here,” One of the other men, shorter, blond, digs into his coat pocket to retrieve his phone. A few taps on the screen and he presents the screen to Connor. “She’s missing. This is the last we heard from her.”

Swallowing hard, Connor peers down at the screen. It’s a text conversation, a few messages back and forth between North and the blond. Connor recognizes him now, too, from North’s phone screen. 

_ <Josh is going home. Markus and I are going to Jericho. _

_ >dont wait up. pursuing hot waiter _

_ <You’re bad!!!!! Text us the full name so we can find you if you get murdered.  _

_ >u bet _

A new timestamp. From when Connor was driving her to his house. He feels sick.

_ >snooped in his wallet. connor elias stern. want the address? _

_ <No, just be safe, please.  _

_ >always am >:))))))))) _

_ <I’m serious! Don’t get pregnant!  _

_ > i wont, geez. love ya! _

A new timestamp. The morning after.

_ <Answer your phone, please. _

_ <Why is it going straight to voicemail? _

_ <North _

_ <If this is some kind of joke, it’s not fucking funny. _

_ <Pick! Up! Your! Phone! _

_ <I’m coming over. _

Connor’s eye twitches when the blond pockets his phone. Pretty eyes lowers his voice to speak a little softer. “Look, man. The cops aren’t being very helpful. We’re college kids, they don’t take us seriously. They think she just dipped and went awol. Maybe home to her parents or something.” He pauses. “But, she would have told us, you know? This isn’t like her.” Connor racks his brain, trying to think of excuses. The guy continues. “We’re not trying to accuse you of anything, we just want to know what happened. If she’s okay.”

Sputtering, Connor shakes his head. “I’m not really sure how I could help. I haven’t seen her since that night.” 

“Dude,” Pretty eyes sighs, rubbing his temple. “You’re the last person that saw her. We just wanna know what happened after she stayed to talk to you. Look,” He extends his hand, shaking Connor’s with firm vigor. “I’m Markus. Maybe we can talk a bit more? Like, maybe you could tell us what happened when she went home with you?” 

“Yes. Sure.” Connor tries to look concerned. Like this random girl he hooked up with mysteriously disappeared. Like he didn’t watch the life drain from her eyes and listen to her gargled screeches. “Whatever you need.” 

Markus whispers something to the tallest in their little group, nudging the blond with his elbow. “Well,” He raises his hands. “Again, not saying you’re a murderer.” Connor surpresses a laugh. “But, I think we might feel better if we could check out where you live, see if she left anything? Maybe she just left her phone on accident.” 

Her phone. That’s perfect. 

Connor agrees. He apologizes to Hank for rushing out, and to his boss, to Kara for cutting out early. Markus drives behind Connor’s car with the other men, Simon and Josh. This leaves Connor time to think, clear his head, stop panicking. He’s never brought anyone to the house that hasn’t died after. The only exception to their rule is Gavin.

They can’t kill all three of them, that would be stupid. Especially since they’ve already contacted the police about North. Taking a calming breath and keeping his hand below the steering wheel, Connor sends a quick text to Niles while stopped at a red light. He hopes that Niles isn’t sleeping or with Gavin. 

_ < bringing people over. they’re trying to find their friend. her phone is in the kitchen. _

He exhales, setting his phone on the seat beside him. This is fine. Everything’s fine. Niles’ car is in the driveway. Good. It’s fine. He won’t have to do this alone.

Connor’s fingers tremble as he opens the front door. The lights are off, and he flicks them on as they step over the threshold, illuminating the living room and the kitchen. He takes a deep breath, going over his fake hookup story in his head. 

“We got here, and, uh, made out for a while.” That part is true. “Then, my room’s down there,” He points, then guides them down the hall, pushing open the door to his bedroom. The floor is clean, bed made. He hopes that the scribbled drawings covering his wall doesn’t make them suspicious. “She didn’t stick around after we, uh… Like, she left immediately after.” 

“What’s in here?” Josh is in the hall, opening the door across from Connor’s.

“Bathroom.”

Markus starts digging around, through Connor’s closet, his dresser, his nightstand. He doesn’t comment on the contents, which is a relief of its own. Connor keeps condoms, lube and several sex toys in the top drawer of his nightstand. Markus drops to his hands and knees, peering under the bed, moving around some of the clothes shoved underneath it.

“Ah!” He gasps, shoving away an old t-shirt. “She left her phone here.” The group heaves a collective sigh, laughing a breath of relief. They think she’s okay.

God, Connor loves Niles!

They leave his room, and Markus thanks Connor for letting him snoop. “I just get worried about her, you know? She’s a little reckless when it comes to random hook ups. I really hope she’s alright.

He’s exchanging numbers with Connor in case Connor hears from her when Josh moves a little further down the hallway. “What about this room?” 

Niles’. The door to the basement is in there.

Connor gulps. “My brother’s room.” Connor has no idea how to explain the locked door. If they go in, there’s no hiding it. They’ll find the basement. Connor can feel his face getting hot. He pushes his glasses farther up on his nose. 

Markus senses Connor’s unease, eyes narrowing. Fuck. “Can we check in there?” 

“Uh, yeah?” The light is on, Connor can see it through the door. There’s no avoiding it now. They’ll see the door, they’ll go into the basement, they’ll find the containers labeled “North” and call the police. 

Markus places his hand on the doorknob, slowly pushing the door open. 

Niles is seated at his desk, his shoulders slumped, head resting on the back of the chair. He turns when he hears the door, brow furrowing in anger as he looks over his shoulder. 

Connor’s nerves subside when he spots Gavin, on his knees in between Niles’ legs.

Quickly shutting the door, Markus apologizes to Connor. He doesn’t ask about the small door in the corner. He didn’t even see it. Connor isn’t freaking out anymore, but he pretends to. “It’s okay. It’s just… that’s my brother, you know? And that’s like, disgusting.” 

“I get it,” Markus nods. “I have a brother, too. I would literally claw my eyes out if I walked in on him doing some shit like that. Thanks for letting us check the place out. If you hear anything,  _ please _ let us know.” 

“Of course. I really hope you find your friend.”

Connor chains the door behind them, and immediately sinks to the floor, leaning against the door. The headlights from Markus’ car grow distant, and Niles’ bedroom door creaks open. He pads down the hallway, in his socks and boxers. Bottles clink in the kitchen as Niles grabs two beers, sinking down to sit beside Connor. Connor takes the drink greedily, lapping up the contents like he survives on it. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome. Was it the girl from last time?” Connor nods, and Niles chuckles darkly, pressing his own bottle to his lips. “I ate the rest of her for lunch.” Connor laughs, too, looking up when Niles’ door creaks again. Gavin. Niles rolls his eyes. “Wait for me in there, Idiot. Let me talk to Connor.” 

Gavin frowns, but obeys. Connor glares at the black snake coiling around his left arm and down his muscled back, then whistles when the door shuts. “He really likes you, doesn’t he?” 

Niles shrugs. “I guess. I suppose I like him, too.” He hisses air through his teeth after another sip of beer. “He’s very obedient.”

Considering this, Connor asks, “You like him more than me?” 

“What?” Niles frowns. “Obviously not, Concon. You’re my brother, he’s just my stupid boyfriend.” Connor doesn’t think that Niles fully understood his question. Or, if he did, he chose to ignore the implication. Figures. “Alright.” Niles stands, stretching backwards and popping his lower back. “I’m going to bed. Please make sure the next one you bring home doesn’t have friends that care about them.” 

“Okay,” Connor laughs a little, head resting on the door. “Goodnight.” 

He stays on the floor for a while, not wanting to move until he can hear Gavin’s obnoxious snoring. When he finally moves to his bed, Connor snuggles into the blankets, smiling to himself. Even if Niles didn’t  _ really _ answer him, at least Connor got something. 

Niles likes Connor more than Gavin.

Hank doesn’t sit in his usual booth the next evening, and Connor wonders where he is. It’s strange not seeing him around. Connor focuses on work instead, listening to Kara ramble about shit Connor doesn’t care about, catering to his tables. He’s mopping up a spill in the waiting area for the hostess when the door rings, Hank stepping through the glass doors and on to the dark tile. 

Connor grins. “Hey, Old Man. Your usual table?” 

Hank shakes his head, shoving his hands in his coat pockets. “You blew me off last night.” 

“What? No. I had to take care of some stuff, sorry.” Connor’s a bit confused, but he still smiles. He did leave in a hurry yesterday. Maybe Hank is right.

Sighing, Hank scuffs his foot on the floor. “Let me take you to dinner.” 

“Hank, I-”

“No. No more of this  _ going out for drinks _ bullshit.” Hank huffs, taking the mop from Connor’s hands. Connor looks to the hostess, who sucks behind the podium, not wanting to pry. “I’m old, Con. I can’t keep doing this tension shit. I like you, and I’d like to get to know you better. I want to take you on a real date, when neither of us are drunk, so I can treat you right. Like you deserve.” 

Connor’s face heats up. “Hank, I… I can’t clock out until-”

“I don’t give a fuck what time it is or when it is. I just wanna spend time with you.” 

There’s a new feeling blooming in Connor’s chest. Hank’s a bit aggressive, but his intentions are good. It’s weird, in a good way. Connor likes the feeling that implants itself beneath his ribs. Like sunshine, or the smell of warm tea. Maybe he’s happy. 

He’s definitely confused, that’s for sure. He wanted this. He wanted Hank to ask him out so he could bring Hank home, seduce him, make Niles kill him. It’s finally happening, but… Connor hesitates. 

Slowly, Connor realizes it must be because he doesn’t  _ want _ to kill Hank at all. He wants to go on this date. No ulterior motives.

It starts to make sense why Niles keeps Gavin around. This feels… nice. 

“Saturday.”

Hank blinks. “What?” 

“I’m off Saturday. Let’s go on a real date at a reasonable time and have actual dinner.” 

“Really?” Hank laughs, passing the mop back to Connor. “Shit, Con. That’s… that’s great.”

“It is.” Connor smiles wide. This one doesn’t feel fake like the rest. “I look forward to it.” 

Connor spends the rest of his shift bouncing back and forth between excitement and horrifying nervousness. It’s a similar feeling to when he watches someone die, but it’s… softer. He feels less guilty, less like he has something to hide. 

Connor spends most of Saturday worrying about what to wear. It really makes no sense for him to be nervous. He’s literally eaten people before, why is he nervous? What’s wrong with him? An hour and a half before he has to meet Hank, he slips into Niles’ bedroom. He opens his mouth to speak, then notices that the room is empty. Frowning, Connor shuts the door behind him, moving to the basement door. It’s unlocked.

Slowly, he descends into the basement, not having to hold onto the wall. Rarely does Connor get to walk down when the lights are already on. It’s easier to see.

Niles stands at the far wall, staring at his reflection in the mirror and fixing his hair. Connor steps a little closer, eyes narrowed. He’s wearing a suit. Matte black and form fitting, a crisp white shirt tucked into matching black slacks, a tie loose around his neck. It’s untied. “Hey, you didn’t go to work today.”

Niles turns. His face is red, like he’s embarrassed. Like knowing that Connor was watching him gaze at his own appearance perturbs him. “Um, no. No, I did not.”

“But, you’re dressed…” Connor gestures to Niles vaguely, hand sweeping over his form. “Like that.”

Sighing, Niles moves to mess with one of the knives on the wall, poking the sharp tip with his index finger. “Yeah,” He shrugs. “Gavin has something planned.”

Taken aback, Connor grins. “Really? Is that a good thing?”

“I think so.” Niles bites his lip. “I hope so. He won’t tell me what we’re doing. I don’t know how I should dress or what to expect.”

Connor climbs into the chair, folding his legs underneath him. He messes with the leather straps. “Well, you look nice. You chose well.” A second passes, and Connor thinks about what he has planned with Hank. And, about how he’s starting to understand Niles’ attachment to Gavin. Niles returns to the mirror, and Connor watches him. He’s lacking his usual frown. He’s happy. Maybe Connor can accept that. Maybe Niles will never be happy with Connor. “I think Gavin is good for you.”

Niles chokes, swallowing hard and turning to face Connor head on. “Yeah?”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re very quiet. You don’t do much outside of work and what we do together. I think it’s good that you’re seeing someone.” He winks. “As long as you always come home to me, of course.”

When Niles laughs, he sounds content. “Of course. I think Gavin is good for me, too. You’re cool and all, but I get tired of seeing your dumb face all the time.”  
He ducks when Connor tosses a scalpel at him. It clatters to the tiled floor. “We have the same face, Ni.”

Niles picks up the scalpel. “I think you’re right. We both need hobbies, at least.”

“I have hobbies.”

“Besides eating people and jerking off to Kitchen Nightmares.” Connor frowns, but doesn’t protest. Bastard. “For what it’s worth, Concon, I think dating would be good for you, too.”

It’s a heavy implication, and Connor doesn’t miss it. Niles means they should dial back the moments they share. Maybe he’s right. “You know, I actually have a date tonight. It’s why I came to find you.”

“Oh?”

Connor nods, folding his hands in his lap. “His name is Hank, and he’s very sweet. We’re getting dinner.”

Niles laughs, and the sound makes Connor’s heart soar. It’s been so long since he’s heard Niles laugh like this. Too long since he’s relaxed, enjoyed himself. Connor can’t help but feel bad. Like he’s been holding Niles back. 

At the end of the day, Niles is still Connor’s baby brother. He wants to be proud of him, and he wants him to be happy.

Shaking his head, Niles leans on the engine beside Connor. “Why don’t we tell each other things?”

Connor shrugs. “We’ve always been secretive.”

“Not to each other. Not anymore.” 

Watching him, Connor starts to understand. Niles wants to tell him something. Maybe he’ll bring up what happened in the kitchen. “You can tell me anything, Ni.”

Niles still hesitates, letting the seconds drag on. “I… I don’t think we should keep doing this.”

Connor snorts, raising an eyebrow. “We can’t stop, Ni, we’d die. We’ve eaten too many-”

“No, I mean,” Niles glances down at Connor’s legs, making Connor blush. “This. Us. It seems wrong.”

“Wrong?” Connor laughs, head shaking. “Nothing we do is right, Niles.”

“Connor, please,” Niles sighs. “Just listen?” His eyes are soft when Connor looks into them, the usual ice replaced with warm ocean. “I like Gavin a lot. I will always like you, but I feel… bad. You made him think I was using him, and we argued for a few hours. But, I thought about that a lot. I think it counts as cheating.” 

Connor has to stop himself from blurting out  _ no, it doesn’t. _

“I just, I want Gavin to be happy, and I don’t want to lose him. But, I think that if he ever found out, he’d break up with me.” Connor stares at him, lips pressed together in a thin line. “You said your date’s name is... Hank?” Connor nods. “Would he be okay with this? With us?”

“No.” That answer is easy. No one would. No one would ever understand.

“I think we should stop,” Niles repeats, standing upright. “At least for now.”

It’s hard. Connor doesn’t ever want to lose Niles, or stop whatever it is they’re doing. But, he knows that if he disagrees, Niles will leave anyway. At least if he pretends to be fine, there’s a promise.  _ At least for now. _

Maybe, if Connor pretends, they can do it again.

“Sure,” Connor grins. “Maybe that’s for the best.”

He jumps when Niles wraps his arms around his neck, leaning into Niles’ chest, bringing his hands up to rest on Niles’ lower back. “Thank you,” Niles breathes against Connor’s neck. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell you for a while.”

“Don’t ever be afraid to talk to me, Ni. I love you.”

Niles offers Connor one last smile before leaving to head back upstairs.

Connor stares at his reflection in the mirror, trying not to care that Niles didn’t say it back.

 

_ Keep you in the dark, what had you expected? Me to make you my art and make you a star and get you connected? I’ll meet you in the park, I’ll be calm and collected. But we knew right from the start that you’d fall apart, ‘cause I’m too expensive. _

  
  


Blood. 

Sanguine coating shirts, mouths, teeth.

A man cuts into a body, dropping fresh slabs of meat onto two plates.

One for each of his boys.

  
  


Connor leaves to meet Hank an hour after Gavin retrieves Niles. He straightens his tie, er, Niles’ tie. He lent it to Connor. Connor’s heart feels full. He’s happy. His nerves are mostly gone, knowing that Niles supports his decision to go on a real date. Connor is giving up his desire to kill Hank, and giving in to his desire to be with him. It’s a good feeling. A long time since Connor has felt good. Confident.

Dinner with Hank is wonderful. Connor’s heart flutters with each smile Hank gives him, each laugh that bellows out of him. Connor’s hands still shake, but, only out of excitement. He really likes Hank. It’s almost terrifying. Its should be scary to open up to someone like this. Connor talks about his brother, of course, about getting bored with college, enjoying serving. He leaves out all mentions of murder, of course, but he’s honest. 

He doesn’t really like thinking about what will happen in the future, if things go well with Hank. He ignores thoughts of getting caught or Hank hating him for being the way that he is or for being with Niles. Instead, Connor focuses on telling Hank the food parts of his life, what he has to offer.

In return, Hank talks about losing his son and the toll it took on him. 

That explains why he was so hesitant to tell Connor intimate details about his life in the middle of a crowded bar. Connor can’t imagine death affecting someone so immensely. He’s never felt pain or remorse the way Hank has, and that thought is scary, too. They’re vastly different people, but for some reason, Hank still likes him.

Hank walks Connor to his car, smiling to himself and reaching up to push Connor’s curls out of his face. Connor leans against the driver’s side door, running his hands through Hank’s beard. Hank smirks. “Now can I kiss you?” 

“Yes, please.”

Hank’s lips taste like chocolate, especially so after the dessert they shared. He kisses like he’s starved, like he’s been craving this moment for years. Connor can’t remember the last time a kiss made him this breathless, this needy. He parts his lips, making way for Hank’s tongue and softly moaning into his mouth. 

Thinking about his discussion with Niles, Connor invites Hank to their home. All he has to do is keep Hank out of Niles’ room, and he’ll have no idea about Connor’s dietary restrictions.

Luckily, Hank is too focused on Connor to look at any of the rest of the dark house. Niles isn’t home yet, and Connor doesn’t bother turning the lights on. Instead, he pulls Hank to his bedroom, pressing hot kisses against his lips. Hank can’t stop himself from laughing when Connor walks face first into his bedroom door. “Slow down, Con.” 

“Don’t tell me what to do.” Connor sticks his tongue out, finally getting the door open and letting Hank press him up against the wall. He kicks the door closed with his foot, running his hands up under Hank’s shirt.

Hank takes Connor’s hands, pressing kisses against each one of his knuckles, he dips, kissing Connor’s cheekbone as Connor tries to push him onto the bed. 

The nightstand shakes, and a picture frame falls off of it. “Shit, sorry,” Hank picks up the frame. It’s an old photo, from when Niles and Connor were little. “Cute. Are these your parents?” 

Connor’s heart stops, and he takes the frame and sets it back on the nightstand, face down. “Kiss me again.” Hank doesn’t argue, or bring up the photo again. It’s easier for Connor to relax. 

Hank pulls Connor onto the mattress, resting on the edge of it, running his hands over Connor’s thighs. Connor breaks their kiss, moving to fall onto his back. 

His sheets smell like Niles. 

Connor shakes his head, dismissing that thought. Hank climbs over him, pressing Connor into the mattress with his weight, making Connor feel vulnerable and small. He presses his knee against Hank’s crotch, enjoying the sweet little moan it elicits. Hank laughs. “You’re the devil.”

“Am I?” Connor does it again, feeling Hank’s growing erection and making him whine. “I prefer to be called  _ Satan.” _

Once more and Hank gasps, the sound sharp and sudden. “Con,” He whistles, leaning down to lick a stripe up Connor’s neck. “You can’t do that to me.” 

“Why not?” Connor tips his head, curious. “Don’t you want to fuck me?” 

He pulls at Hank’s hair, and Hank groans. “God, Con, I want to.”

Connor wiggles out from underneath him, practically tearing his shirt from his torso, and immediately pulling off his jeans. His boxers follow, and it takes him a second to push all of his clothes off the bed and onto the floor. Connor leans back on his elbows, pulling his knees up and spreading his legs. 

Hank watches him in awe, jaw hanging open. Connor doesn’t bother fixing his glasses, glancing down at his own naked body. “What are you waiting for?” 

“Jesus Christ.” Hank wipes his forehead before leaning down over Connor, trailing his large, calloused hands over every inch of Connor’s body. Each touch sends sparks up Connor’s spine, making his breathing pick up the pace.

Hank takes his time, squeezing every bit of Connor’s skin, rolling his palms over every joint of his limbs. He presses hot, open kisses to each one of Connor’s moles while scratching at the hair on his stomach. Connor whines, keeping his legs open, his back arched, hips angled at the air. Just when he thinks Hank is finally going to touch him, Hank pauses, dragging his teeth along Connor’s hipbone. 

It takes a lot of restraint for Connor not to tell Hank to hurry up. He yells at his brain, forcing himself to remember that he’s never been with Hank before, he has no right to be impatient. With Niles, Connor at least knows that it’s teasing. Niles is a snarky little bastard when it comes to this, and Connor can see right through his calm faćade. 

But, Hank? Connor has no idea. Maybe he’s just slow. That’s fine. Connor will be patient. 

Connor nudges Hank with his knee, careful to make sure that his voice is encouraging and demanding or demeaning. “Can I see you?” 

Hank bites his lip, the tiniest bit of his gapped front teeth showing through. It’s cute. “Erm,” He really considers this, pausing the movement of his hands down the inside of Connor’s thighs. They rest there, making Connor want to grind against them if they’re not doing anything, but, he doesn’t. He shows restraint. “No.” 

“No?” Connor struggles not to sound disappointed.

“I mean, obviously, you’ll, uh… You’ll see my, uh,” Hank laughs, face red. “Sorry, I’m nervous. I haven’t done this in a while.” 

“That’s okay.”

Hank smiles, cheeks growing darker. “God. No, I mean, I’m not comfortable with you seeing,” He gestures to his stomach. “All of this.”

Connor smiles, too, sitting upright and kissing Hank softly. “I don’t mind. I think you’re beautiful.”

“That’s very sweet, Con.” Hank shakes his head. “But… it doesn’t help.”

A second passes as Connor watches him, tongue darting out to lick his lower lip. “That’s alright. Shirt on.”

Hank exhales, like he’s relieved. Like he thought Connor would reject him if he didn’t take his shirt off. Connor may not understand it, but he really doesn’t mind. He runs his hands down Hank’s jeans, massaging against his thighs with thin fingers. Slowly, Connor tugs playfully on one of his belt loops. “What about these?” 

“Um,” Hank laughs a little, moving up towards the pillow so he can spread his legs out on the bed in front of him. Connor’s bed is too small to fit them both, and Connor is only slightly inconvenienced. Something about screwing such a large man atop something so small in such a tiny, confined little room is incredibly endearing. “Yeah, sure.” 

Connor grins, leaning on his hands and knees, hovering a few inches above Hank’s legs. He starts with Hank’s belt, pulling it completely free from the garments and tossing it to the floor. The buckle hits the door with a soft clink. Following Hank’s slow pace, Connor unzips his jeans with careful hands. It’s difficult to get the jeans off, even with Hank raising his hips. His cock gets in the way, and that makes Connor’s heart race. 

He must be huge.

Once the jeans hit the carpeted floor, Connor moves back to hover above his legs, sinking down so his bare chest scraping along Hank’s thick legs as he crawls upwards. Connor’s eyes dart to Hank’s thigh, gaze trailing over the faded ink of his tattoo. Slowly, Connor drags his tongue over the outline of it, feeling the hair against his taste buds while Hank squirms beneath him. 

Connor reaches up to grab Hank over his boxers, sinking his teeth into the inked flesh of his thigh. He tugs, pulling the boxers over Hank’s legs and discarding them, pressing open mouthed kisses to his leg before finally sitting up, admire Hank in all his glory.

_ God damn. _

He’s big, much more so than Connor expected. Hank’s cock is thick, girthy, easily wider than what Connor’s hand can hold. Saliva pools in the corners of Connor’s mouth as he gazes, eyes blinking rapidly. He almost forgot what they were doing. “Con?” Hank clears his throat, his face red. “You good?”

Connor nods, licking his lips. “Yeah, I’m just,” He reaches out, taking it in his hand. He was right, he has to use both. “You’re so big.”

Hank laughs, the sound awkward and self-conscious. Connor has  _ no idea  _ why someone of Hank’s size is so easily embarrassed, considering how attractive he is. “Is that bad?”

“Bad?” Connor repeats, dumbfounded, running his thumbs on the underside of Hank’s cock, tracing the veins. “It’s amazing. I’m,” Connor laughs, shaking his head.  _ Oh wow.  _ “I’m not even sure if I’ll be able to take you.” He pauses, letting his voice trail off. Hank watches him, and Connor can tell he’s waiting for something. 

A pet name, perhaps? Connor doesn’t think he has any for Hank, nor does he usually like using them in bed. Nicknames during sex are a luxury Connor reserves for Niles. Something dear to him, to remind them both of their close relationship. It makes Connor feel possessive, in control. And, Connor would bring lying if he said that hearing Niles whisper  _ Concon _ in his ear didn’t get him going in the best of ways. 

Connor thinks of other names he would want to call Niles, besides Ni. Maybe, if Connor pretends he’s with Niles, he’ll be okay calling Hank something other than, well, Hank.

_ God, _ the thought of Niles being Hank’s size makes Connor’s mouth water even more, especially as he trails his fingers through the thick hair covering Hank’s lower belly. Niles is a pretty big guy, size-wise, and his dick is usually more than Connor can handle but… This? Too big for Connor’s bed, cock the size of a fucking beer can? Connor would  _ die. _

Slowly, Connor lowers himself to Hank’s cock, pressing his tongue to the warm tip, lapping up pre-cum and listening to Hank’s soft, anxious sigh. Connor looks up at Hank, enjoying the blush spread across his features. “What should I call you?” 

Hank blinks, eyes wide. Like he wasn’t expecting Connor to ask. “Hank’s good.”

Connor rolls his eyes, licking the side of Hank’s massive cock from base to tip, making him squirm. “Really? You don’t want anything else?”

“I-” Hank sputters, still taken aback. “I mean, you don’t have to.”

Shrugging, Connor moves up to take Hank into his mouth, or, what he can fit, anyway. He pauses, hovering above the tip to whisper, “Okay, Daddy.” 

That does it. Hank’s hands are in Connor’s hair, pushing him down onto the tip with slight force. Connor relaxes his jaw, hollowing his cheeks, trying to make it all fit. He gets about halfway down before he gags, shamelessly moaning louder, so it echoes through the room. Hank’s careful not to buck his hips up, likely knowing that it would hurt Connor. Connor uses his hands to pump what he can’t fit in his mouth, rotating his palm to cover all of it.

It’s been awhile since Connor’s sucked cock like this. Their last few victims were women, and Niles isn’t into receiving blow jobs. It’s almost exhilarating, controlling Hank like this, figuring out what he likes. Connor lets his teeth scrape the underside and Hank’s legs squeeze Connor’s elbows. A good reaction, making his limbs go weak. Good.

After a beat, Hank whispers Connor’s name, making Connor recoil. His pulls Connor up by his underarms, smashing their mouths together forcefully. Connor doesn’t hesitate shoving his tongue in Hank’s mouth, straddling his stomach and rocking down against him. The friction is good, feels wonderful against Connor’s thighs. He’s sensitive there, and it makes him whimper into Hank’s mouth. 

Hank chuckles, beard scratching Connor’s neck as he kisses Connor’s jaw. “What should I call  _ you?”  _ Hank echoes Connor’s question, hands squeezing Connor’s hip bones.

“Hmm,” Connor smirks, grinding his hips a bit harder, feeling the fabric of Hank’s shirt against his cock. “Antichrist.” Hank coughs out a harsher laugh, laying back against the headboard. Connor keeps going, sitting back to run his hands down his torso, feeling Hank’s eyes trace every inch of his body. “Prince of Darkness.”

“Con, come on.”

“Lucifer.”

_ “Connor,” _

“That!” Connor kisses Hank’s cheek, hands resting against his broad chest. “Call me Connor.” Hank growls, taking Connor’s hope and pushing him forward, repositioning him so he’s laying face down with Hank looming over him, stomach presses against his back. “You don’t like when I tease you?”

Hank sighs, helping Connor so he’s raised on his knees, running large hands down his ass. “Only when it leads to this.” 

Biting his lip, Connor grabs onto the comforter, the feeling of Hank’s breath on his skin getting to be too much for him. “Please,” He whispers, all notions of teasing completely forgotten. Chuckling, Hank presses a kiss to Connor’s lower back, and Connor shivers. “My nightstand,” He points, unable to move, his legs crushed under Hank’s weight. 

The bed squeaks as Hank reaches over, opening the draw and laughing louder, making Connor’s face heat up. “Lotta stuff in here.”

“Take whatever you’d like.”

He can hear Hank rummaging around, sorting through personal massagers, beads, handcuffs. Hank whistles. “Why do you even have all this?”

Connor shrugs, as much as he can, given his position. He can’t really tell Hank that he uses them on innocent people before bringing them down to the basement to watch them get brutally murdered. “I get lonely sometimes.” 

“I’ll use my hands, then.”

Hank shuts the drawer, and Connor turns, his face still against the mattress as he spies the lone bottle in Hank’s hand. “There were condoms in there.”

“I’m clean.” Hank presses another kiss to Connor’s back, uncapping the bottle. “You?”

“I think so?” 

It comes out like a question, and Hank doesn’t miss it, huffing a short breath. “You think so?”

Connor shrugs. “It’s been awhile. I told you, I get lonely.” Which is a lie. Connor just doesn’t go to get tested in fear that the doctors will take one look at him and immediately know that he’s fucking his brother.

“Alright,” Hank runs his fingers along Connor’s ass, spreading his legs open and whistling low. “I’ll just take that as a yes.”

Connor expects cold fingers, pressing into him harshly, trying to get this over with. But, Hank isn’t Niles. He bites into the flesh of Connor’s ass, and Connor yelps, hips unintentionally bucking forward. Hank moves his hands to hold Connor’s hips steady, keeping him in place.

And then, his tongue. Hot, wet, foreign against Connor’s skin. Niles would never do this for him, would never willingly put his face anywhere near Connor’s ass. Connor can’t stop himself from moaning, the sound reverberating off of the walls in the small room.

He buries his face in the mattress, biting into the fabric of the comforter as Hank tongues him open. Connor struggles on his hands, staying upright as Hank pulls back briefly to add lube to his fingers, using his index finger to aid his tongue. Hank circles the rim with his tongue, slowly pressing his finger inside, making Connor fall forward against the mattress. Hank laughs, beard scratching Connor’s skin. “You good?”

“Mm,” Connor squeezes his eyes shut, hands gripping the comforter tightly. “Fuck yeah.” Hank leans on top of Connor again, stomach pressing into Connor’s back and pressing him in the mattress. It’s overwhelming. Connor feels small, and Hank adds another finger. Connor’s words come out soft, broken in between breaths. “Want you inside me.”

Connor starts to feel stretched open, Hank’s thick fingers working inside of him, curling to hit Connor’s prostate at just the right angle. His legs shake, hands reaching down between them to squeeze his cock, losing control of his thoughts and actions. Hank grabs his hand, stopping him. “Not yet, Con.”

“Please, Daddy,”

“Fuck,” Hank growls, nipping at Connor’s ear. “I love when you call me that, Baby, but you gotta be patient with me.” He laughs, fingers wiggling inside of Connor. Connor moans, biting the comforter. “I’m old. Gonna take a while to finish.”

That’s a wonderful sentence, so Connor waits, letting his hands grip the blanket again. His eyes flutter closed, allowing his mind to wander while Hank fingers him open, occasionally leaning down to swipe the rim with his tongue. Connor’s brain shouts the usual banter, like it always does. Arguments he could have won, interactions at work that made him anxious. Little moments that he remembers constantly, his mind hyperfocusing on them specifically.

Mostly, he thinks about Niles. 

He wonders what Niles is up to, right now. Is he still out with Gavin? Is he almost here? Connor has no idea what time it is now, Niles could be home any minute. Was he overdressed? Did he choose the right suit? What was Gavin’s surprise? Why doesn’t Niles love-

Connor stops that train of thought when he hears Hank using the bottle again, freeing his fingers and pouring lube on his cock. Hmm. Must be done. Connor isn’t sure why he didn’t focus on that. 

Hank helps Connor balance on his hands and knees again, wet fingers streaking the skin on his small hips. The head of his cock teases Connor, rubbing against Connor’s ass as Hank chuckles low in his throat. Connor wiggles, emphasizing his want. He screws his eyes right as Hank pushes inside of him, pain spiking up through his spine and into his brain.

Fuck, he’s big. Much bigger than Hank’s fingers. The moan falling from Connor’s lips is loud, breathy. Hank pauses every few seconds, each inch stretching Connor more and more, making him feel absolutely full. Connor falls forward on his elbows, keeping his ass in the air, teeth digging into his bottom lip. Hank adjusts his knees, staying still. “You okay?”

Connor doesn’t answer, eyes shut tight, heart pounding. Hank hasn’t even bottomed out yet, and Connor isn’t sure if he can take it. He wants it, he knows he does, but his mind still wanders, still tells him that something’s not right. He thinks about Niles again, timidly asking Connor if they could stop the intimacy of their relationship.

Thinking about it makes Connor mad, makes him wonder why he even loves Niles in the first place. That’s stupid, Connor realizes. Niles is wonderful, obviously Connor loves him. He’s just angry.  _ At least for now.  _ Connor reminds himself of Niles’ words, reassuring that they can continue their relationship in the future sometime. 

He wishes they could now.

Connor keeps his eyes closed, imagining Niles behind him like this instead of Hank. Niles, buried deep in Connor’s ass, softly asking if Connor’s okay. Niles, fingers digging into Connor’s hips, breathing quietly and deeply in time with Connor’s own breaths. Niles, timid, shy, insisting on keeping his shirt on while they fuck. Niles, too big for Connor’s bed. Niles, calling Connor  _ Baby,  _ letting Connor call him  _ Daddy.  _

“I’m good.” Connor can’t feel the pain anymore, adjusting to Hank’s size. “I’m good. Keep going.”

“God, you’re so tight. You sure?”

Connor imagines Niles’ voice. 

“Yes. Please, Daddy, fuck me.” 

Hank’s hips touch Connor’s ass, and Connor can feel the tears welling in the corners of his eyes. Hank thrusts upwards, into Connor, making Connor feel weak, helpless. His legs go limp, falling completely onto the mattress. Hank follows him, rolling his hips, fucking Connor into the bed, his weight keeping Connor pinned. 

It’s hard to breath. Connor loves it.

Connor inhales the scent of the comforter, a smile growing on his features. They still smell like Niles, despite the sweat and the heat filling the room. Connor relishes in it, feeling Niles deep inside of him, knowing that Niles is with him. His heart fills with love, blossoming at the thought of his brother, grinding against him, pushing him deeper into the mattress, crushing Connor with his weight.

Warmth pools between Connor’s legs, and suddenly, he’s coming, thick fluids coating his thighs, his hands. Niles whispers something that Connor can’t hear over the pounding in his ears. He keeps going, fucking Connor until Connor can’t feel his senses, can’t feel anything other than love. Love for his brother, for their relationship.

Love for this moment. One more secret to keep between the two of them.

Niles pulls out to finish, pumping himself onto Connor’s lower back, his ass. Connor’s limbs feel heavy as he rolls over onto his back, his feet resting on the pillows by the headboard. He opens his eyes, senses returning to him, blinking up at the ceiling fan. Something in his vision is foggy. His glasses are smudged. Connor takes them off, holding them to his sweat covered chest, feeling the rise and fall as he calms his breathing.

The mattress dips, and Niles is beside him, shoulder brushing Connor’s own.

Niles. Niles? No, Hank. 

Connor glances over, unable to see clearly without his glasses, but able to make out the outline of Hank’s features. His kind eyes, his crooked nose, his beard. He’s talking. Connor struggles to hear him, the pounding in his ears slowly subsiding. 

He rubs his glasses clean on the comforter before turning back to look at Hank clearly. He’s falling asleep, tired. “Did you say something?”

Hank opens his eyes, stifling a yawn. “Who’s Niles?”

“What?”

“You called me Niles. Who is that?”

Hank falls asleep. Connor never answers. 


	2. where do we go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks to Zee, for helping me with a specific NSFW scene in this chapter. 
> 
> Once again, heed the tags.
> 
> Thanks for reading.

_ It’s probably something that shouldn’t be said out loud. Honestly, I thought that I would be dead by now. Calling security, keeping my head held down. Bury the hatchet or bury a friend right now. _

  
  


A man seated on the couch, a child between his legs, gagging, vomiting. His hand colliding with the child’s face, grabbing the child by his throat. Screaming, calling the child stupid, disobedient, useless. Good boys don’t gag. Good boys don’t gag. Good boys don't gag. Don’t gag. Don’t gag. Don’t gag. Don’t gag.

The child’s brother watches from the chair.

He’s happy. 

He’ll get a turn soon. Then he can punish the good boy the same way Dad does.

  
  


Connor wakes to the sound of music drifting through the house. He looks up at the ceiling, trying to pinpoint the song, recognizing it from some Netflix drama. Quietly, he turns his head to look at Hank, whose eyes are wide open. He was letting Connor sleep. “I think someone’s home?” 

This is weird. There’s never music in their home. It’s always eerily quiet with the occasional scream coming from the television, or a moan drifting out from either their bedrooms or the basement. “It’s probably-” Connor stops himself, remembering accidentally moaning Niles’ name earlier. He figures Hank will forget if he avoids saying Niles’ name.

Connor can’t imagine how freaked out Hank would be if he realized Connor moaned his brothers name. He would hate Connor, or be disgusted.

“It’s probably my brother,” Connor finishes, exhaling slowly. He slides out from under the comforter, slipping on his boxers and reaching into his dresser to grab some shorts. “Here, come on, you can meet him.”

Hank smiles, his grin stupid and accentuating his gapped teeth. Cute. Connor carefully pushes his bedroom door open, his bedroom filling with the music, too. He pads down the hallway, blanket wrapped around his shoulders. Hank’s heavy footsteps follow behind him.

In the living room, Connor’s heart melts. That love returns. 

Niles and Gavin are dancing.

It’s awkward, and they’re both obviously tipsy, but they laugh through it, slurring words as they sing softly to each other. Gavin’s head rests against Niles’ chest. Connor can make out the words to the music now. 

_ “I had all and then most of you, some and now none of you. Take me back to the night we met.” _

Hank drapes his arm over Connor’s shoulders. This is a good moment for all of them. Connor doesn’t want to intrude, but his heart aches as he realizes that he’s never seen Niles smile like this. Connor realizes there’s a difference between this Niles and the one he sees in the basement. All chilling glances, all malicious grins, all melancholy nuances are gone. There’s a darkness that hangs over Niles at all times, but it’s more prominent when he kills.

The bloodlust always moves to his cold eyes, making them brighter, hungrier. That Niles seems terrifying compared to this one. Soft smiles, drunken giggles. Messy hair, sloppy kisses pressing against Gavin’s lips. 

_ “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, haunted by the ghost of you. Take me back to the night we met.” _

Connor feels the odd need to cry. He can’t tell if it’s because he’s finally getting what he wanted. He wants Niles to be happy, to be free of that darkness that pains him, to be able to laugh loudly, to live carefree. He should be happy for Niles, but he feels lonelier than ever, even with Hank so close to him.

This isn’t the Niles that Connor knows. His brother would never dance with anyone, his love would never be this sweet, especially not to Gavin. Connor wants to,  _ needs  _ to cry because he has no idea who this person is. 

Eventually, Niles spins Gavin, knocking him into one of the barstools at the counter and laughing loudly. The sound hurts Connor’s ears, but it allows Niles to look up, to notice Connor and Hank watching them from the hallway. He straightens, letting go of Gavin’s hips and nudging his shoulder so he’ll stand upright, too. 

Gavin shoots Connor a weird look, and Hank tenses beside him, but he ignores it, smiling, pretending to be happy for Niles. “Sorry. I just heard you were out here.” He pats Hank’s chest. “This is Hank.”

Niles crosses over to them, a little wobbly, to shake Hank’s hand. “Niles.” 

Hank immediately turns to Connor, wide-eyed.

Fuck.

Connor racks his brains for things to say. He can’t really say  _ ‘Oh! Sorry for calling you someone else’s name last night. I just pretended you were my brother so I could get off while you fucked me from behind. No big deal!’ _ That would be embarrassing not only for him, but for Niles. Jesus Christ. 

He freezes, unable to think of any excuse. How does he even begin to address it? 

Thankfully, Gavin speaks over him when he tries to explain, and it takes Connor a second to register what he says. 

“Anderson?”

Connor frowns, turning to look up at Hank, expectant. Gavin was clearly addressing him. Hank folds his arms, awkward. “Uh, hey, Reed.” He doesn’t say anything else.

A quick glance at Niles’ face makes Connor realize that he has to be the one to ask. “You know each other?” 

Hank nods, as does Gavin. “We work together.”

Suddenly, it dawns on Connor that Hank still hasn’t told Connor what he does for work, always saying that they aren’t close enough. Connor also never gave a shit what Gavin did, so he never asked. Hmm. 

Niles clenches his jaw, turning to Gavin.  _ “Lieutenant  _ Anderson?”

Gavin nods again, his eyes wide. Connor wraps the blanket a little tighter around his shoulders. “Lieutenant? What does that mean?”

Hank looks down at Connor, sighing. “I’m head of the homicide division for the Detroit Police Department.” 

“You’re… a cop?”

Nodding, Hank’s features turn soft. “I didn’t want to tell you yet, Con. Most people aren’t comfortable with death, and my whole life revolves around it. I investigate murder for a living, I didn’t want to freak you out.” 

Connor snorts, and Hank gives him a quizzical look. It takes Connor a second to realize that’s not really something that warrants a laugh. He couldn’t help it, Connor has watched at least fifty different people die, and he’s eaten most of them. He looks to Niles, who grabs Connor’s arm and leaves Hank and Gavin in the living room.

He drags Connor to his room and shuts the door. The key jingles when he removes it from his neck, jams it into the basement door. Connor’s face goes pale. “What are you doing? There are people here.”

Niles grabs him again, yanking him down the first set of stairs. He stops before the second flight, releasing Connor and pacing atop the grated platform. The basement beneath them is dark. It feels like they’re standing over nothing. “I just… I needed to talk to you.”

“Was now really a good time? I’m trying to figure out what’s going on.”

“Yes. I’m worried, Concon.” Niles frowns at him, the light coming from upstairs illuminating only half of his face. “Gavin told me about Lieutenant Anderson. He specializes in serial killers.”

“So?”

_ “So?”  _ Niles repeats, his voice low. “We’re serial killers. How the fuck could you bring him here? We’ll get caught.”

Anger spikes through Connor’s veins, making his face feel hot. “Me? How does  _ Gavin _ know him?”

“Gavin is a detective.”

“Then how can you be mad at me when you’ve been bringing him here for a year, Ni?  _ A year.” _

“It’s different.”

“How?”

Niles sighs, sinking to the floor. The grate squeaks with his weight. “I don’t know.” His voice cracks. Connor honestly can’t tell if he’s crying or if he’s just really drunk. 

He sinks down to Niles’ level, folding his legs underneath him. The grate is painful against his bare shins. “You said there were no more secrets between us. Why didn’t you tell me that Gavin was a detective? Why do you still bring him here?”

Niles exhales slowly. His breath smells like strong wine. “I met Gavin at a party at my work. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to feel accomplished, or good about myself, I don’t know. You bring home all of our victims, so I thought I could bring home a cop and make you proud, give you a break. Things got out of hand. I didn’t expect to sleep with him, it just happened.

“And, I’m not like you, Connor. I can’t just… fuck someone and not get attached.”

He pauses, and Connor runs his fingers along the sharp grate. Part of him wants to push harder and make his fingers bleed. “What did you think would happen if you started dating him?” 

Niles huffs a laugh. “Best case scenario? Gavin is an idiot, and a bad detective. He has no idea what we do down here and is too afraid of me to ask.”

A moment passes. Connor’s shoulders slump. “And… worst case?” 

Niles laughs again, like he thinks  _ he’s  _ the stupid one, not Gavin. “Gavin is a good detective. He’s using me to gain evidence, and will eventually betray me and arrest us.”

Connor rubs the bridge of his nose, trying not to sound condescending. The last thing Connor wants is to make Niles mad at him. “If you knew that could happen, why would you be okay with that?”

“If he  _ is _ using me, I don’t care.”

“What?”

Niles sniffs. He’s definitely crying. “Because I don’t think either of those things are happening. Gavin’s not stupid, but I don’t think he’s using me. I think he knows I’m hiding something bad from him, but he’s not going to comment on it or figure out what it is.”

“Why not?”

“He loves me.” Connor watches Niles curiously. Who is this person? Connor doesn’t know him anymore. That’s terrifying. Niles exhales a shuddering breath, and Connor can finally see the tears streaking his features. “No more secrets?” Connor nods. “Gavin proposed to me tonight.”

Connor stares at him, wide-eyed.

“I said yes. I’m not like you, Connor. I can’t distance myself from people, I can’t treat people the way you do. Killing people was easy because I didn’t know them, I never spoke to them. Those people had families, Connor, and we ate them. We took them from their loved ones, and for what?” 

Connor shakes his head. Keeps shaking his head. Niles is wrong. Something is wrong with him, he’s wrong. He’s bad. That’s not Connor’s Niles. This isn’t Niles.

“Every time I kill someone, Connor, I see Mom and Dad.”

“Stop.”

“I don’t want to think about them anymore. I don’t want to do this any-”

“Stop!” Connor pounds his palms against the sides of his head. “Stop it! Stop talking!”

“It’s bad, Connor. This has gotten so bad. W-we can’t keep doing this. We have to stop.”

“We can’t!” Connor can feel tears welling in his own eyes, his face burning, blood boiling. “We can’t stop! We can’t! We’ve been doing this for too long, we’re too deep, we can’t just  _ stop.  _ We rely too heavily on it.”

“But we can,” Niles scoots closer to Connor, lowering his voice even further. The words are shaky as they come out in between harsh sobs. “We can get rid of all the stuff down here, board up the wall in my room, sell the house. We can put all of this shit behind us, Concon. Pretend like it never happened.”

Connor can’t think, the thoughts in his head too jumbled to make sense of. He grabs Niles’ shoulders, pulling him closer to kiss his lips desperately, expecting him to stay still, frozen like he always is.

But, Niles shuts his eyes, opens his jaw, lets Connor roam his mouth with his tongue, engages with him, runs his hands over Connor’s shoulders. Their teeth click, and Connor whines, the feeling of Niles’ tongue against his own so wonderful, so relieving. Years of him never kissing back, finally coming to a stop. 

Connor pulls back, tears falling from lidded eyes, staring down at Niles. Niles watches him, eyes bloodshot, cheeks wet, lips red and swollen. He looks pathetic, needy. 

This isn’t Niles.

Slowly, Connor stands. “Fine. Do whatever you want. I don’t care.”

“Connor,”

“Don’t talk to me.” Connor reaches up to wipe tears away. “Marry Gavin, board up the basement, I don’t give a fuck. But I’m not stopping, Niles. I like killing people, my body is used to me eating them, if I stop, I’ll die. Or go crazy, or something, I don’t know.” Connor shakes his head again. “I thought you liked it, too, but I guess not.”

Niles frowns, face growing stern. He looks a bit more like himself, less pitiful. “I only did this for you, Connor. You killed that girl and you asked me to help you. I would do anything for you, but I’m tired of this.” He sighs heavily. “Look, when Mom and Dad died, that hurt you, I get it. But that was so long ago, Connor, you-”

“Dad didn’t die.” That shuts Niles up, his jaw clenching. “Our parents died, Niles. Not Dad.”

Blinking, Niles stands, too. He’s much more intimidating when he’s not sobbing on the floor, a good four or five inches taller than Connor. “You’re a psychopath.”

“I’m not.” Connor shakes his head, his breathing heavy and erratic. “Dad told me so. I’m smart.”

“You’re not smart, you’re autistic.” Niles growls. “And he’s not our fucking dad.”

Connor leaves Niles at the foot of the stairs. He can’t listen to a stranger talk bad about Dad that way. Connor quickly pulls his clothes back on once he’s in his room, not looking up when Hank pushes the door open behind him. “Con? You okay?”

“No.” Connor laughs. “I’m moving out. I can’t be here with him.” Hank doesn’t ask questions. He can see that Connor is stressed and upset. Instead, he helps Connor pack a few things. Mostly clothes. “Can we go somewhere?” Connor sniffs. “Anywhere is fine, I just… I can’t be here.”

He doesn’t look at Gavin when they pass by, and he doesn’t look back at the house when they’re on the road. He focuses on his hands, twisted together in his lap.

Connor stays with Hank for a few weeks, usually calling out sick from work. Hank has a big dog, a Saint Bernard named Sumo. He’s a good dog, very friendly, but he reminds Connor of the dogs he used to throw rocks at when he was little. The stray cats he used to strangle. 

Hank is incredibly kind, and doesn’t bring up Connor calling him Niles at all, doesn’t ask about Connor’s fight with Niles, he doesn’t pry. He brings home food when he’s done with work, let’s Connor cry into his shoulder. Connor feels better after a while, more comfortable with Hank. Hank makes him feel safe.

They fall into a routine. Connor stays home during the day, hanging out with Sumo or tidying up while Hank works. When Hank comes home, dinner, sex, sleep, only to do it over again in the morning. It’s nice. Domestic.

But, Connor gets bored quickly. Not working combined with his lack of…  _ nutrition  _ is enough to make Connor’s head spin with dark thoughts, with scary feelings. 

So, he asks if he can accompany Hank to work, go with him and sit as his desk while he files paperwork for whatever crime he’s solving. It could be fun.

Hank agrees.

Connor thinks the precinct is weird, of course. It’s so loud and full of high energy. Sure, Connor’s used to the bustle of a packed kitchen, or a long dinner rush, but not a bunch of cops yelling at each other in codes, all shakingly hyper from too much coffee. Connor stays seated at Hank’s desk while Hank goes to the glass office at the center to speak with their captain, Fowler. Connor watches him for a second, drumming his fingers on the desk. 

He really shouldn’t be left alone out in public. At home, it’s one thing. He can daydream about murder and the taste of blood, and if it gets too bad he can just jerk off or something, take the edge off. But, he can’t do that in a packed precinct, dozens of officers filing paperwork, talking to citizens. So, the thoughts creep into Connor’s brain, and he starts to imagine which cop would taste the best.

He watches them as they work, his thighs squeezed together, imagining each one tied up in the basement, begging for their lives, screaming at the top of their lungs. God, the short one that sits at the desk behind Hank’s makes Connor salivate. He’s come to like older men. Eventually, it gets to be too much, so he stands, wandering off to the break room in search of snacks or television. Anything to make him less hungry and way less horny.

He buys some chips, pops one into his mouth and turns, eyes wide when he spots Gavin, leaned over one of the tables in the break room. There’s a woman beside him in a police uniform, short, asian. She whispers to Gavin lightly, giggling in between sentences. Connor grins around the salt now covering his tongue. “Hello, Detective Gavin.”

Gavin chokes on his coffee, standing upright. He coughs for a second, the woman patting his back to make him stop. “Uh, H-hey. What are you, uh, what are you doing here?”

Connor shrugs, eating another chip. “I’m just waiting for Hank. We have a date later.” He bounces on the heels of his feet, intentionally not making eye contact with the woman. “How’s Niles?”

Gavin squares his shoulders, trying to look anywhere other than Connor’s face. Connor loves how Gavin is always so obviously afraid of him. Pathetic asshole. “He’s good.” Gavin tips his head, like he’s wondering what he should and shouldn’t tell Connor. Something is… different about him, but Connor isn’t sure what. He seems happier, not stressed. It’s similar to the glow Niles gets after killing someone. 

Huh. 

Connor eats another chip. “You guys married yet?”

Clearing his throat, Gavin shakes his head, folds his arms. He’s lacking his usual sweater today, his arms exposed beneath his t-shirt. His arms are muscled, like Connor expected, but Connor focuses on the tattoo winding down his shoulder. He’s seen it before, when Gavin so rudely walked around their house without a shirt on. A rattlesnake, coiling down his right arm, the rattle itself ending on his forearm, the head hissing venom on his collar bone. 

Now, Connor can see the little dagger inked into his wrist. He wonders who that’s for.

“Uh, no. We’ve only been engaged for two weeks, so, yeah. No.”

Connor shrugs again. “You seem different. Something’s changed inside of you.”

Sputtering, Gavin shakes his head. “What? Inside of me?” He laughs, awkward. Liar. Something’s different. “Nothin’s changed. Still me.” He drums his fingers against his elbow, and Connor spots it.

A ring.

Niles gave him an engagement ring, too. They both have one.

Fuck.

Connor sighs. “Well, I’m doing great, thank you for asking.” Gavin blinks. He didn’t ask. “I’m living with Hank now, so, you know.” Connor gestures to his shirt. It’s Hank’s. Too big on his bony frame and covered in God awful patterns. “It’s like I’m on real housewives.”

Gavin snorts. “Yeah? Invite me to the wedding, then.”

Connor chooses to ignore that jab, that implication that Connor won’t be invited to Gavin’s wedding. Niles must still be mad at him. Great. “Are you staying at the house?”

“Yeah. I go home to take care of Peanut, but mostly, I’m with Ni.”

“Great. That’s wonderful. Good for you guys.” Connor’s had enough of this polite bullshit. He was hoping Gavin would say Niles was staying at Gavin’s house instead, so Connor could get into the basement and finally have a proper meal. He’s been going stir crazy without it. “Well, I better go find my boyfriend.” Connor traces the snake’s scales again, memorizing it. 

He smiles at the asian woman, who doesn’t smile back, instead glancing away to look at her coffee. Bitch. Connor drops the half empty chip bag in the trash can on his way out. At Hank’s desk, Connor scribbles a note for Hank to find when he gets out of his meeting with Fowler.

_ }Meet me in the bathroom. _

If Connor can’t kill anyone here, he might as well relieve his stress some other way. Obviously, he can’t wait until they get back to Hank’s house. Now’s a good time. Connor makes his way to the bathroom, closing himself in the stall farthest from the door. While he waits for Hank, he scrolls through Instagram, watching a few baking videos. Little things to get him in the mood. 

A few minutes pass, a few people come and go. Connor doesn’t look up from his phone until he hears Hank’s heavy footsteps. “Con?”

Connor opens the stall door. “Hey, get in here.”

Hank frowns. “Con, I’m…” He laughs, shaking his head. “I’m not a small guy, Connor, I can’t-” Connor purses his lips, and Hank sighs, squeezing into the stall. Connor locks the door, and ends up squished between Hank and the wall, his butt up against the toilet paper dispenser. Hank laughs again. “What the fuck are we doing in here?”

Innocently, Connor pushes his glasses up on his nose. “I’m bored and stressed.”

“Stressed?” Hank raises an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

Sometimes Connor can’t stand how caring Hank is. How sweet. Kind. “Eh,” Connor puts his hands on Hank’s shoulders, using the wall to push himself up to plant a kiss on Hank’s lips.

Hank’s face turns bright red. Too sweet. “Con, we can’t. I work here.”

“So?”

Laughing again, Hank tries to reach the lock. “I’m not gonna fuck you where I work.”

“Good thing you don’t work in the bathroom, then.”

Hank brings his hands to Connor’s waist, and Connor smirks, kissing him again. Hank’s still hesitant, unsure. Connor sighs. He doesn’t have any kinks of his own besides background noise and the television, he’s pretty open to whatever. But, Hank has a very specific something that Connor can exploit.

Without batting an eye, he pushes his knee between Hank’s thighs, moving to whisper in his ear. “Please, Daddy.”

Hank growls, kissing Connor with bruising ferocity. That’s more like it. Connor whines when Hank starts tugging at his belt, struggling to get Connor’s pants off in the confined stall. Hank pulls off Connor’s shoes, and Connor keeps whispering to him with soft pleads, making Hank’s face grow redder.

He snakes his hands into Hank’s hair, tugging on the ends lightly. Hank finally manages the situation with Connor’s pants, spitting in his hand so he can palm Connor’s cock, making Connor sigh contentedly. Something about sex in public makes Connor happy. Maybe it’s the risk of getting caught. Not just having sex in a public bathroom. Maybe, after years of avoiding it, there’s some part of Connor that wants to be caught, arrested for murder.

Maybe.

He buries that thought as Hank fingers him open, his back pressed against the cold wall of the cubicle stall. He wraps his legs around Hank’s hips, letting his head roll back. Is this really the stress relief he needed? Connor bucks up against Hank’s stomach, intentionally whimpering to distract himself. As Hank sinks another finger, he laughs. “Quieter, Con.” Connor sighs, shutting his eyes, trying to get lost in the moment, trying to focus all of his energy on Hank. On this.

And yet, when Hank is inside of him, roughly thrusting up into him, Connor’s mind keeps wandering, wishing he were somewhere else. At home, in the basement, with Niles. Blood on his hands, in his teeth. He wants to hear screams, wants to watch someone die. 

He wants to be at home watching cartoons. He wants to color, laying on the couch, pretending not to hear his parents screaming at each other in the kitchen, pretending not to hear Dad touching Niles in the corner. He wants to hold Niles as he cries, asking why their parents hate them, what he did to make God punish them this way.

Connor wants to see Dad, wiping blood from his hands and telling Connor what a good boy he is for helping. He wants to hear Niles sobbing as he and Dad try and make him a good boy, too.

Really, Connor wants to be home with Niles. Wants to kiss him, and smell him, and press his face against Niles’ chest. He wants to feel safe, with someone who understands him. Someone who was there in that fucking house, someone who gets it, who won’t judge Connor for being weird. Someone who was there for him those nights when he woke up screaming, trembling from dreams of warm summer days, family picnics on the beach. Someone who… doesn’t want to kill anymore. Someone who doesn’t like Connor anymore.

Connor grows quiet, moans ceasing to pour from his lips. Connor doesn’t think he can ever go home.

God, he misses Niles. It’s been weeks. He can’t understand why Niles hates him, why after everything Connor does for him, he still chose  _ Gavin. _ It’s not fair. Connor deserves to have his brother. Connor needs to have his Niles. Connor deserves to be with the person he loves more than anything else in the world.

He definitely deserves Niles more than Gavin does.

Hank pulls out when he finishes, and Connor drops to his knees to catch everything in his mouth, swallowing to avoid leaving traces of their tryst. He sniffles when Hank helps him pull his pants back on, his shoes. “You okay?” Connor furrows his brow as Hank reaches up to wipe his cheek. “You started crying, Con. Got all quiet on me.”

Connor reaches up to feel his cheeks. They’re wet. “Oh,” He shakes his head. “I guess I was a little overstimulated.”

Hank clears his throat, kissing Connor’s temple. “You didn’t finish, Baby.”

“Oh,” Connor didn’t even realize. “Stress, remember?”

“You want me to-”

“No, Hank. No, I’m fine.”

Connor exits the stall before Hank, straightening his shirt, checking his reflection to fix his hair, his glasses. Hank stands awkwardly behind him, confused. “Connor, if I did something wrong, I-”

“No!” Connor shakes his head. “God, no. Hank, you’re amazing, thank you. I’ve just got a lot on my mind today, that’s all.” Hank nods, holding the door open so they can walk back to the precinct. “Hey, I’m gonna go.”

“What? Con-”

“I just have an errand to run.” Connor kisses Hank’s cheek, smiling. It feels fake, even to him. “I’ll be back to pick you up and we can go get dinner?”

Hank exhales, but doesn’t question him. “Yeah, sure. Alright.”

Dinner goes well. Connor barely eats. He’s busy thinking about telling Hank everything. Hank has been so good to Connor, so understanding. He deserves to know about some things. Maybe he’ll leave out the most recent years, all the people he’s killed, but he might as well tell Hank what happened to his parents.

Hank told Connor about his son, Connor might as well return the favor.

They’re laying in bed, Connor’s back flush with Hank’s chest, their legs tangled together. Sumo snores softly at the end of the bed, warming their feet. “You investigate murder.”

Hank stirs, and Connor wonders if he was asleep. His voice isn’t groggy, so maybe not. “Yeah. Every day.”

“Have you ever… have you ever investigated cannibalism?”

Hank whistles. He sounds shocked. “Geez, Con, I don’t know. I’ve only ever seen one or two cases like that, and they ended up just being accusations. It’s not really something that’s common in Detroit. Why?”

Connor keeps his attention on Hank’s hands, rolling over so they’re face to face. He traces lazy, nervous circles against Hank’s belly. “Can I tell you about my parents?”

There’s a pause, and then Hank’s hands are running down Connor’s sides as he kisses Connor’s forehead. “You can tell me anything.”

“I used to live in Ann Arbor.” Connor sighs, keeping his gaze on Hank’s chest. He hasn’t talked about this to anyone other than Niles since his therapist, who he hasn’t seen in ten years. “Did you ever hear about the Arkait trial?”

“Yeah.”

“I took my adoptive mother’s last name when I was old enough to change it, but it was Arkait. When Niles and I were ten, our godfather murdered both of our parents in front of us and kept us locked in the house with him for five days.” Hank is quiet now. Connor can hear his heart thudding in his chest. “The officers that worked the case weren’t very nice to us. We were children, so they didn’t listen to us when we tried to tell them what happened. They thought we were hysterical, and stupid.

“Amanda worked with child protective services, and came to help take care of us. We stayed in the police department for a few days before she got fed up seeing officers ignore us, and took us home. She adopted us, so we wouldn’t be separated or sent to a foster home. My godfather was tried, and thrown in federal prison.” He pauses. “I don’t know if he’s dead or not. Michigan abolished the death penalty a long time ago, and Amanda moved with us to Detroit so we would never be near that town again. 

“Niles and I don’t Google it. We’ve never gone to the prison. We don’t want to know what happened to him, if he’s still there or not. A film crew did a documentary on us in 2006, and other than that, we don’t look into it or talk about what happened. I never watched that film, and I still probably won’t.” 

Hank’s breathing is steady, hand smoothing Connor’s hair. “Oh, Con,”

“There’s more. Let me finish.” Connor exhales, pressing his forehead to Hank’s chest. “We don’t look because we’re kind of… denying one part. Niles likes to pretend he doesn’t remember, none of the officers told us the truth, Amanda never answered me when I asked. But, I know, you know? I remember.”

Hank’s eyes feel piercing, watching Connor closely. “What is it?”

“They never asked us what happened in there. They didn’t listen to me when I tried to tell them. We spent  _ five days _ with our godfather, and they only questioned him. They never wanted to know how we felt. They interrogated all of our neighbors, everyone on the street, everyone except  _ us,  _ even though we were  _ there.” _

“Connor,” Hank pulls Connor’s face towards him to kiss his lips softly, trying to comfort him. Connor doesn’t know why he feels so shaky. “You can tell me.”

It comes out quickly. Word vomit. “My parents never got a funeral because there was nothing to bury. The only thing detectives found was a jar of their teeth. He chopped them up, melted their bones and fed them to us. He cooked our mother, and we only ate meat those days we were trapped there, but he made us eat our father as he chopped him up. Raw.”

Hank is quiet for the rest of the night. Connor shouldn’t have told him.

Connor dreams about his parents. It’s hard to see them. Niles was in therapy for way longer than Connor ever was, and it was Connor that asked him to stop going, to try killing someone with him. 

Niles agreed. Connor misses him.

He said that killing people makes him see their parents, and Connor wonders if he hears their screams, too. Each new victim, each one vastly different than the one before, but they all scream the same way. Like their parents did.

It’s comforting to think about, even as Connor sleeps.

He smiles.

His mind replays their screams, over and over and over. It’s almost like they’re there, in his head. Connor supposes, technically, they’re still with him. When he wakes up, his smile fades.

He wonders if they would be proud of him.

Hank doesn’t talk during breakfast, either. Connor pulls his knees up to his chest, poking at his eggs with a fork. He’s wearing Hank’s old police department hoodie. It’s warm. “Will you please say something?” Connor feels desperate. He needs to know if Hank is going to reject him over this. 

If Hank can’t handle this, Connor can’t ever tell him about the basement. About Niles.

He lets go of a breath, shrugging. “It’s a lot, Con. I don’t know. I need some time to deal with this?”

“You need time?” Connor laughs, bitter. He pushes his plate away. “How is that fair to me?”

“What?”

“This is my whole life, Hank. Everyday I’m afraid to talk to people, because I think they’ll know I-”

“Stop,” Hank shakes his head. “I don’t want to be mean to you, Connor, but you’ve dealt with this for a long time. Give me a second to wrap my head around it.”

Connor frowns. “That’s not fair. I’m being open with you, how can you push me away? This is hard for me to talk about, Hank, you can’t just-”

“My boyfriend just told me he thinks that he ate his own fucking parents, Connor. How the hell am I supposed to handle that? Huh?” 

Connor falls quiet. He doesn’t finish his breakfast. 

He stays on the couch while Hank is at work. He doesn’t watch television, he doesn’t read anything, he doesn’t pick up his phone. Connor just sits, staring at the wall, at Sumo. Sumo’s breathing is annoying. Connor could make him stop, he wants to, he knows how. But, he refrains, repressing the urge to wrap his hands around Sumo’s large throat.

Hank stays standing when he gets home, shrugging out of his coat and laying it on the back of the couch. “I looked into it. The trial.” Connor wrings his hands together. Hank knows everything about it, now. Everything their godfather did. “The files say he was charged with cannibalism, false imprisonment, child abuse, lewd and lascivious molestation…” He rattles them off like he’s disgusted. 

Connor nods. “Yeah, sounds about right.”

Hank shifts his weight from foot to foot. Sumo watches him, but Connor keeps his eyes on the wall. “Do you want to know if he’s dead?”

No. Niles would kill Connor if he knew. “Yes.”

“He’s not. He’s in the correctional center in Lansing.” Hank sets a file down on the couch. “I could lose my job for taking this, but I think you need to see it. You need closure, Con.”

“Closure?” Connor glances at it, then up at Hank. “If I get closure, will you stop ignoring me?”

Hank sighs again, sinking down onto the couch beside him. “I’m not ignoring you, Connor. You know I like you. I just got spooked, that’s all.”

Connor’s heart races. Hank doesn’t hate him. Things might be strenuous right now, but they’re going to get better. They’re going to be happy. Connor picks up the file, reads through it. “Niles needs to see this, too.”

“You wanna bring it to him?”

Connor closes the file, running his hand over the name printed on the front. 

  1. _Kamski._



The drive to Connor’s house is quiet. Connor doesn’t like the uncomfortable silence that now consumes Hank, but, he supposes it’s better than being alone right now. Hank’s presence is enough to keep him calm.

There’s a sharp pain spiking up Connor’s arm. He ignores it. He chose that pain, and the feeling of his rough sweater rubbing against it is mildly irritating. Determined, Connor focuses on the road in front of the car, hands gripping the edges of the folder, his heart racing.

Niles and Gavin are sitting on the living room floor when Connor opens the front door, and only Gavin turns to look. There are bags under his eyes, sleep pulling at the corners. He’s exhausted. Niles keeps his gaze trained on the television, though it’s blank, his back to the front door.

Connor clears his throat, but, nothing.

_ Hm. _

Sighing, Connor guides Hank to the living room, sliding down to sit across from Niles. It takes Hank a second to situate himself, bad back, and he mumbles a quick greeting to Gavin. Gavin swallows around a lump in his throat. It’s like he’s hiding something. Connor quickly glances at the snake’s tongue, darting out from under the collar of his v-neck. 

Impulsively, Connor scratches his own chest in the same spot, his other hand still gripped tightly around the folder. “I brought this for you,” He says at last, looking back to Niles. “I told Hank about our parents. Does Gavin know, or should I bring this to your attention some other time?”

Finally, Niles turns his gaze away from the black screen. Blue eyes meet Connor’s, and Connor can feel the dread creeping up his spine.

Niles does not smile. “Gavin knows  _ everything.” _

Connor knows the implication behind that. Not just their parents, not just Kamski.

Niles showed Gavin the basement.

With trembling hands, Connor passes the folder to Niles. He stares down at it for a solid minute, unmoving. Frozen. Like the information will disappear if he opens it. Connor tries to encourage him, telling him about Hank looking into the case, into what happened. Gavin inches closer, resting his head on Niles’ shoulder.

Relaxing, Niles opens the folder, spending a few minutes reading everything inside, the same way Connor did. He pulls out the pictures. Their old house, the blood covered basement. The pictures of Connor and Niles, profiles on them, descriptions. Kamski’s mugshots. The yellow tape in the front yard. The tree with the swing their father built for them. The dirt, dug up and shifted. The jar of teeth. The police report, the statement from the neighbors who called it in. Drawings that Connor did while in the police station, scribbly crayon sketches of dead cats and hamsters. A written account of a conversation with Niles, an officer asking him why he was crying. He asked when their mom was coming to get them. Where they had taken Kamski. If they were going to let Kamski hurt him again.

Medical reports. X-rays. Traces of human flesh found in both of their digestive systems.

Niles stares down at a family photo, taken the day before it happened. All five of them. Kamski with them, smiling. It crinkles as he closes his fist around it. “Why isn’t he dead?”

Connor isn’t sure. He didn’t read that part. Hank sighs heavily, speaking on Connor’s behalf. “Michigan was the first state to abolish the death penalty. That, and, from what I can tell, Kamski was a powerful man. I think he had good lawyers, so they talked the sentence down a bit. He’s still in Lansing, heavily guarded, but they won’t kill him.”

Niles’ eyes flick upwards, to Connor. “He should be dead.”

Nodding, Connor resists the urge to reach out and hold his hand. “I know. And, I’m sorry, but you needed to see-”

Niles shakes his head, and Gavin sits upright, taking the folder from him and entwining their fingers. The action makes Connor’s eye twitch. Niles’ grip on the photo grows tighter, balling it up in his closed fist. Seconds pass, maybe minutes. Hank reaches out to close the folder, straightening the files inside. Connor watches Niles, whose eyes stay locked on Connor’s until he finally whispers.

_ “Fuck you.” _

Connor blinks. “What?”

“Fuck you. You promised me we would never go looking for him.”

Frowning, Connor sets his jaw, a little hurt. “I didn’t go looking for him. Hank found the file. Don’t-’  
“I never wanted to know, Connor.”

“We needed closure.”

“Closure?” Niles laughs. The sound is bitter. Hollow. “Fuck closure. I didn’t need to know that the man who molested me for years is still alive. I didn’t need to see pictures of my dead fucking parents. I didn’t need to know that we-” He chokes, looking away. 

Connor wonders why that’s what freaks him out. They eat people all the time. How is this different?

“I didn’t… I didn’t need to know that my brother has always been a psychopath.”

Glancing at Hank, Connor starts to make sense of his silence in the car. Kamski didn’t make Connor the way he is. Sure, he killed their parents, and did… some pretty awful things to Niles, but the reports are obvious. The evidence is right there. At least Niles can blame Kamski for fucking him up. Can pawn his lack of stability on his abuser. But, Connor? Something was always wrong with Connor.

The drawings and conversations with the officers. If Hank found the file, he certainly watched the police tapes. Heard Connor talk about strangling animals. Fucking hell.

Connor is careful about his word choice here. He doesn’t want Hank to know about their more recent years. Can’t let Hank know how many people he’s eaten since then. “Niles… I’m sorry. I know it;s hard to talk about this. But, I think that it’s good for us. We can’t keep this buried anymore. We have to at least talk to each other. Before our fight, you hadn’t even mentioned our parents in four years. We can’t suppress shit like this.”

Niles stands suddenly, dropping the crumpled photo to the floor. “I don’t want to talk about this at all, Connor. I’m done.”

“You’re done?”

“I’m  _ done.” _

He emphasizes the last word. Connor knows what he means. He’s not just done talking about their parents, he’s done with Connor. With the basement, with their lifestyle, their relationship.

Hank stays seated with Connor on the floor as Gavin helps Niles pack his things. Connor reaches to pick up the photo, smoothing out the folds. It’s a nice picture. The same one Connor has framed on his nightstand. Kamski smiles up at him, wrinkles formed in the corners of his eyes.

Niles pauses by the front door, handing one of his bags to Gavin. He moves over to Connor, and Connor stands, half-expecting some sort of goodbye.

Instead, Niles yanks the key off of his neck, the chain links scattering across the room. He throws the key at Connor’s face, hitting his cheek, and the front door slams when the key hits the carpet with a soft thud.

Connor stomps to his bedroom and flings himself onto the bed. He buries his face in the pillow, lets out a scream. The bed dips, and Hank’s beside him, running his hand down Connor’s back. At least Connor hasn’t made Hank hate him. Not yet, anyway. Hank rubs his back for awhile. Soft, slow circles, pressing against Connor’s shoulder blades. “So,” He heaves a sigh, and Connor can hear him kicking off his shoes. “What was the key for?”

“Um,” Connor doesn’t want to lie again, but he does. “Niles’ bedroom.”

“Oh,” He keeps rubbing Connor’s back, and it’s sort of comforting, but not really. “Are we going to talk about the animal thing now?”

Groaning, Connor doesn’t even look up. “Do you want to?”

“Yeah.”

Connor shrugs, but lets Hank keep rubbing his back, relieving the tension. “I don’t know, really. I used to find squirrels or birds and bring them to my mom, dead. I threw rocks at things until they stopped running. My dad got rid of all of the knives in the kitchen. He kept them locked away and they never let me eat anything that requires silverware. I think they loved me, but I also think they were afraid of me. I remember going to see doctors and mental health professionals.

“I don’t know,” He shrugs again. “I know I’m on the spectrum, but my parents never told me what the doctors said. But, I stopped after Amanda adopted us. I might have done it once or twice, but she was really strict, so I learned not to. She made sure that I knew that hurting animals wasn’t okay.”

Another moment passes before Hank asks, “You don’t still want to, do you?”

Connor’s breathing stills. How does he answer this? Just today, he thought about killing Hank’s own dog. He thought about killing Hank. Killing Niles.

Killing Niles.

_ Huh. _

Eventually, he shakes his head, lying again. “No. Never.”

Hank releases a breath, a long one. He’s been holding it in since Connor first brought up his parents. It sounds tired. “Okay. If you grew out of it, then, we’re okay.”

“Really?” Connor sits upright, watching him. “We’re okay?”

“Yeah,” Hank nods, smiles. “So, you went through a weird killing animals phase, what’s the big deal? I was emo once. We all do some weird shit at some point in our lives,” He leans forward to kiss Connor’s forehead. His lips are warm. “What happened to your parents was awful, Con, but it wasn’t your fault.” Connor’s vision gets blurry and tears threaten to fall. “I can’t blame you for what that man did to them, what he did to Niles. What he made you both do.”

Connor kisses him. Hard. Hot tears stream down his cheeks as Hank’s hands hold Connor’s face in place, holding him close. The feeling of Hank’s tongue is dizzying. Connor pulls back for breath, gasping through sobs. Hank drags his thumbs over Connor’s cheeks, wiping away tears and whispering kind words. Connor’s crying stop when Hank whispers “I love you, Con.”

Funny. Connor spent so long wondering why Niles never said it back, but now, Connor can’t bring himself to say it either. It sticks in his throat. Ironic.

Instead, the only thing he can allow himself to do is make Hank feel good. Make Hank feel better about their relationship. Connor makes bruises on Hank’s neck, undressing him slowly, cautiously, admiring every aspect of his body. His hair, his eyes, his skin, his weight, his cock, his ass, everything. Hank is perfect. Connor makes sure he knows it.

He presses kisses against each scar and stretch mark, traces lines over his faded tattoos, cups his face in loving hands and tells him that Connor doesn’t deserve him. Hank tries to argue, but Connor doesn’t listen, keeps praising him. 

For the first time, when they make love, Connor doesn’t think about Niles. He pushes away all of the bad thoughts, buries them deeper inside his brain and ignores them, keeping his focus on Hank. Connor won’t say it out loud, be he wants Hank to know that yes, Connor loves him, too.

Hank snores softly beside Connor when the thoughts finally return. He tries to focus on the sound of Hank’s snores, on the good thoughts of Hank loving him, but, the bad starts to drown out the good. He stares at the ceiling, his mind replaying the contents of the folder, the pictures from their old house. His mind forces him to remember what it’s like to watch Niles dismember someone. What blood feels like between his fingers. The chewiness of human flesh. How gummy and warm it feels against his teeth, in his throat. 

His fingernails dig into the palms of his hands. It’s been a month since North. Connor hasn’t eaten normal food since he first told Hank. He was too sad to eat, too nervous. Thinking about it makes his stomach growl. He hopes Hank can’t hear it. The hunger makes him sweat, so he pushes all of the blankets over to Hank, who snuggles into them softly. Connor watches the oscillating blades of his ceiling fan, pushing cool air down onto his naked body.

He feels bad about lying to Hank. Now that his head isn’t clouded with love, Connor remembers that this might be a mistake. Hank loves him, but he shouldn’t. He can’t. Connor is a murderer. Hank catches murderers for a living. This can never work.

And yet, listening to Hank’s breathing, Connor feels like it might. There’s still a small thread of hope. Maybe he’ll tell Hank after all. Maybe he’ll get Hank to join him sometime. His stomach growls again.  _ God,  _  he’s hungry. The thoughts return. There isn’t anything left in the fridge in the basement, there can’t be. Connor doesn’t have to give into the urge ever again. He can quit. If he cleans the basement well enough, he’ll never get caught. 

No. Connor doesn’t want to do that, which is aggravating. If Niles can renounce this life, why can’t Connor?

Niles.

His name feels heavy, weighted. Connor is angry at him. Heartbroken. What changed? What made him give up everything they had? Connor knows it wasn’t just the folder, Niles’ outburst seemed to be a long time coming. He just wishes he knew what gave Niles cold feet. Connor doesn’t understand how anyone wouldn’t enjoy the lifeless eyes, the sound of bones snapping, the wet squelch of flesh. Who would give that up? It’s pleasure at its finest. Those few seconds where the screams turn into gurgles. The life drains from them, slowly fading into nothingness. It’s euphonious, it’s amazing. Why would Niles-

Connor gasps softly in the dark room.

_ Gavin. _

Gavin has divided them.

How could Connor ever love Niles? How could he trust someone who would give up a life so good to be with someone so awful? How can Connor know for sure that Niles isn’t going to tell someone what they’ve been up to? If Gavin has seen the basement, does that mean he’s going to report it? Arrest them for murder? For cannibalism?

Niles told Gavin their darkest secret. Connor can never trust him again. Never love him.

A thought crosses his brain. One he had earlier today, one he remembered when he was lying to Hank.

Killing Niles.

Connor is slow, climbing out of bed, quiet. He pulls on jeans, a sweater, socks for keeping silent. He presses a kiss to Hank’s forehead, listening to the mumbles he gets in response. He closes the door softly, careful not to make noise. He rummages through the kitchen cabinets, the drawers. He’s always been paranid, has always kept weapons and deterrents in places he can access quickly. He finds what he’s looking for under the sink. A colorless bottle and a white rag.

Chloroform.

He snatches the key off of the living room floor before leaving, careful to close the front door quietly.

Hank won’t even know he’s gone.

Connor’s grip on the steering wheel is lethal. The car ride is quiet. Lights pass over his face as he drives past street lights. HIs mind races, thoughts flying past his field of vision before disappearing, then returning. Louder. There’s one thought at the forefront, louder than the rest.

Connor stops trying to push it away.

Killing Niles. Killing Niles. Killing Niles.

He puts the car in park, climbs out of the car, rag in hand. He shoves it into his back pocket after dousing it in the chemical, smiling as he sees Niles’ car in the driveway, parked snug next to Gavin’s motorcycle.

It’s easy enough to break in. The door in the garage is unlocked.

He tip toes through the small house, familiarizing himself with the surroundings. A kitchen, a living room with several pieces of exercise equipment. Fresh fruits on the counter, Gavin’s badge on the table, Niles’ bags propped up against a wall.

Connor opens a few doors before he finds Gavin’s bedroom. He moves to stand over the bed, looking down at his brother.

Killing Niles. Kill Niles. Kill Niles.

Gavin’s back is pressed against Niles’ chest, Niles’ arms tight around him. That might make this hard to maneuver. Slowly, Connor peels away Niles’ arms, separating them. Niles mumbles in his sleep. “ _ Gavin.”  _

Smiling, Connor prays that his arms are strong enough to carry an entire person. He brings the cloth down, presses it against nostrils. Connor is going to fix things between them. Niles betrayed him. Niles decided to leave their life behind, to break up with Connor. COnnor is going to make sure that he never leaves again. That he never abandons Connor again. 

That he will love Connor, now and forever.

It’s difficult bringing the body back home. Connor relied too heavily on his own strength, hurting his back in the process. He’s quiet as he drags the body down the hall, stopping to peak in his bedroom. Hank is still sleeping. Good. He keeps going, his breathing heavy, unlocking the basement door and starting to pull the body down the stairs. He locks the door again from the inside, just in case.

It’s equally difficult to get the body onto the operating chair. Connor laughs when he does, relieved. He digs around for tools, spreading them out on the small table. He looks down at the body, smiles wide.

Connor is going to make things right between him and Niles.

Oh, Niles is going to love this.

Like all of the good times they shared, Connor pulls out the teeth first. He drops each onto the tray, humming to himself. The body stirs with a bit of the pain, and Connor realizes he doesn’t know how long chloroform lasts. No matter, Connor straps the limbs to the table, so he can talk once the body comes to.

It takes a minute to figure out how to saw off the flesh, break the bones. Niles used to do this part. Connor is exhausted from dragging the body, but still, he whispers to it, relishing in the moment, recounting the past. He talks about how often Niles used to bend him over this very table, how he would fuck Connor for hours, hard enough that neither of them could breathe.

Blood coats Connor’s hands, his arms, his clothes. He wonders aloud how Niles kept himself from getting this messy.

He doesn’t bother portioning the flesh, using the saw to cut off small chunks, eating them as he works, coating his mouth in a thick layer of blood. Though the body is awake, it doesn’t scream. It listens to Connor. Eyes wide. The flesh is hard to chew, gooey. It reminds Connor of their father. Of Dad. 

Bones dropped into the bin so Connor can get them into the furnace, he steps back, looking at all of the blood covering the floor. He left the head on the table, not sure what to do with it just yet. Hastily, Connor shoves hunks of muscle and flesh into the fridge. It’s messy, and it doesn’t all fit, the door propped open on the hinge, unable to close. Connor hasn’t seen the basement this messy in a long time. It’s kind of nice.

The amount of blood makes him think about his parents. Their screams. There were no screams tonight, only reassurance. The certainty that Connor will never lose Niles again.

He crosses back to the chair, running his hands over the head. Through the hair, through the blood covered chin, the stump of the neck. He jams his fingers into its mouth, feeling the lack of teeth, the bloodied caverns, inflamed gums. 

Connor loves Niles, he really does. He hates that he had to do this, but its good for them.

This is the closure they needed.

Connor runs his thumb over the nose. Over the deep scar covering the ridge.

Now Gavin will never come between them again.

  
  
  
  


_ For the debt I owe, gotta sell my soul, ‘cause I can’t say no. No, I can’t say no. Then my limbs all froze and my eyes won’t close and I can’t say no. I can’t say no. _

  
  
  
  


Red and blue lights, illuminating the dark pavement. Two children, wrapped in a blanket, sit in the interior of an ambulance, legs dangling out into the cold.

They watch as officers drag their godfather, away from the house, shoving him into the back of a police car.

One, older, is unscathed. His glasses are taped in the center, worn from years of use. Though his hair is a curly mess, his face is clean, clothes pressed, shoes laced.

The younger brother is naked, and covered in bruises. Vomit on his chest, his face, blood coating his teeth. Tears trail dark paths down his cheeks.

The EMT says one of his arms is broken. The bone snapped clean in half.

They watch officers talk to their neighbors as they walk out to see the commotion, sending the boys worried looks of concern. The car their godfather is in drives off, sirens blaring.

The older brother turns to his brother, eventually, tilting his head to the side. “Where do you think they’re taking him?”

The younger does not answer. His windpipe is crushed, hindering his ability to speak. The older can see the finger shaped bruises around his tiny neck.

The officers grow quiet as the EMT tries to touch the younger’s shoulder, frowning and pulling back when he flinches away. A few officers approach them, and the other squares his shoulders, ready to defend his brother if he needs to. “Where are your parents?”

There are people searching the house. They haven’t gotten to the backyard, yet. The older brother doesn’t want to get their godfather in trouble, so he doesn’t mention it. The younger strains his voice, and the older resists the urge to kick him. He shouldn’t tell their godfather’s secrets like this. “Mom is… in the freezer.”

“The freezer,” The officer repeats, glancing between the boys and the others crowding behind him. “And what about your dad?”

The younger raises his fist to cough into it, blood splattering his knuckles. The EMT tries to shoo the officers away, telling them that he needs to go to the hospital immediately. 

He grips his brother’s hand, scared. The older grins up at the officers, not caring about his godfather anymore. He’s going to protect his brother. His brother is all that matters.

“We ate him.”

  
  
  
  


Hank is warm when Connor wakes, nuzzled into his side. He’s awake already, looking at the ceiling, letting Connor sleep in. Stirring, Connor shimmies a little closer, straining his neck to kiss Hank’s cheek, smiling at the small hum blooming from Hank’s chest. “Mornin’.”

“Good morning,” Connor inhales, really absorbing the way Hank smells, eyes shut right as he memorizes the pattern of his breathing.

“Were you up earlier?” Connor blinks up at him, brow furrowed. “I woke up a little while ago, and you weren’t here.”

Connor grins, running his hand through the thick hair on Hank’s soft chest. “Showered. Made breakfast.”

Hank yawns, stretching his arms out. Connor takes the opportunity to get even closer, snuggled with his head against the crook of Hank’s neck, tangling their legs together. “You made breakfast and then… came back to bed?”

“Yup. Don’t worry there’s still some left. I just… couldn’t sleep.”

“You were just sleeping a second ago.”

“I sleep better after a shower,” Connor shrugs, finally sitting upright. He can feel Hank’s eyes on his bare chest. “What?”

Reaching out, Hank runs his fingers down the sharp lines of ink trailing down Connor’s chest. “This is new. I didn’t see it last night.”

“Kept my shirt on,” Connor rolls out of bed, planting his feet on the floor. It’s colder than under the blankets, the chill settling deep in his bones.

Heavy footsteps. Hank is behind him now, arms snaking around Connor’s torso, pulling him close. “I didn’t take you for the type to get tattoos.”

“I’m an artist, Hank,” With a soft kiss, Connor pulls Hank to the kitchen, grabbing a sweater on the way out. “We should eat.”

Hank waits at the table while Connor heats up the pan again, sipping slowly from his coffee mug and commenting on the weather outside. “It’s snowing again. Weird, huh? Sometimes I really fucking hate this state.”

“Me too,” Connor says, sliding food from the skillet to two plates.

He eats in relative silence, waiting. It’s been so long since he’s had a nice meal. “Uh. Con?”

“Hmm?”

“What the hell is this?”

Cubes of meat. Connor used a lot of seasoning to keep it from being bland. The kitchen smells of lamb, of death. He lies. “Tofu,” Hank pulls a face that’s questionable, and Connor shrugs. “You know I’m vegan. What were you expecting?”

“I don’t know, honestly. Eggs?” Hank runs a hand through his beard, messing it up even more than it already was.

“Eggs come from chickens. I don’t have any in the house.” Connor stands from his chair, stretching his arms over his head. The action makes his sweater ride up, the cold hitting his pelvic bones, exposed by his low riding boxers. He can feel Hank’s eyes on him. “I can go to the store if you want something else.”

Hank seems hurt by that, immediately growing defensive. “What? Con, no, you don’t have to do that.”

“Well, if you don’t want-”

Sighing, Hank scoots his chair back, letting his legs fall open. “It’s fine, Con. Really.”

Connor takes the hint, dropping into Hank’s lap. “Here,” Connor reaches, not bothering with a fork, taking a cube and holding it out for Hank to see. Hank keeps his eyes on Connor’s, opening his mouth and letting Connor slide his fingers inside, pressing the cube to his tongue.

Hank groans as he chews, flavor hitting his palate. Connor plants a kiss against Hank’s lips once he swallows. “Shit, Con.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Hank licks his lips, Connor tracks the movement through lidded eyes. “Holy fuck how have I never had tofu before?”

Tofu. Right.

“Most people don’t know what they’re missing,” Connor grabs another, and this time, Hank keeps Connor’s fingers in his mouth, sucking hard on each digit as he licks grease from them. 

Ah. So this is what they’re doing now.

It isn’t hard to get Hank to shut his eyes, deep moans coming from down in his chest, reverberating throughout the room. Each bite leaves him drooling, slobbering over Connor’s hand as his head lolls back in pleasure. Connor revels in it, grinding down against Hank’s lap and laughing at the sound of Hank’s breath hitching.

Connor drinks the moans from Hank’s lips, his tongue darting out to taste his breath. The sweater feels too hot now, his boxers riding up as he bucks his hips forward. He can feel Hank hardening through his own boxers, and Connor smirks, pressing his fingers hard against Hank’s tongue.

Quickly, he stands, reaching into one of the drawers with his free hand while Hank continues to nip at his fingers. There’s an awkward pause as Connor struggles to get his boxers off one-handed, but the heat returns when Connor takes another cube, slowly sliding it past Hank’s lips.

Connor climbs back into Hank’s lap, straddling his thighs, snaking his free hand down between his legs and dropping the bottle of lube to the floor. He fingers himself open, still listening to Hank’s delicious grumbles, working his fingers both in and out of Hank’s mouth, and himself. 

Hank leans his head back, reaching down to clumsily pull his cock from his boxers, gasping when Connor feeds him more. The sound turns low and dark as Connor slides down onto his cock, and suddenly they’re both panting, silently begging for more.

Rolling his hips, Connor rides him, fingers still firm in Hank’s mouth, enjoying how Hank shamelessly moans around them. His other hand, steady against Hank’s shoulder, digs down into his skin through his shirt, bruising Hank’s collarbone, marking him as Connor’s.

When Hank comes, he’s tired, and Connor has to jerk himself off. His hand is wet enough from the combination of Hank’s saliva, and the grease from the food.

Connor can’t help but wonder, as he comes all over his belly, if deep down, Hank knows what they’ve just done. What he’s just eaten. Maybe he doesn’t. 

Hank doesn’t help Connor clean himself up, watching through tired, lidded eyes as Connor runs a towel over his thighs, his ass. “Well. Good morning indeed.”

Laughing, Connor rolls his eyes, bending forward to grab his boxers from where they lay, discarded on the tile. The doorbell chimes as Connor is pulling them back over his damp legs, startling him. Hank sits upright, tucking his spent cock back into his underwear, glancing at Connor.

Connor pauses before answering, glancing out of the window, through the blinds.

Niles’ car is in the driveway.

Niles.

_ Niles. _

It worked. Connor has to stop himself from crying, from jumping in delight. From screeching at the top of his lungs. 

It worked. With Gavin gone, Niles will love Connor again. He’s here. He’s actually here.

“It’s Niles,” Connor says, feigning casualty.

Hank raises an eyebrow, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Need me to talk to him?” Connor frowns. “I just mean, that was a pretty nasty fight, Con. Do you even… do you even want to talk to him?”

Yes. Yes, a million times yes. “Um… yeah, I think. Don’t worry about Niles, he can just be dramatic sometimes. It’ll be fine.”

“Con,” Hank sounds cautious, careful with his word choice. “You spent the last month living with me because you didn’t want to be around him.”

_ Oh. _ Right.

“Look, Con, I think maybe we should talk anyway.”

“About what?” Connor smiles at him, trying to seem as soft and warm as he felt while waking up this morning.

The way Hank looks now makes him feel nervous. Cold. “I didn’t want to… To freak you out or anything.”

“Freak me out?” Connor repeats, leaning back on the counter when Hank stands.

Sighing, Hank scratches his beard. “Our first actual date. Right before you fought with your brother and you came to live with me. You called me Niles.” Connor’s eyes widen. “I don’t think you know that you did, and I didn’t want to make things weird, but I think we should talk about it.”

Fuck. Fuck, Connor forgot about that. The doorbell rings again, and Connor glances at the table next to the door. Niles’ house keys are still there, he forgot them when he left. “Why?”

“Because it’s fucking weird,” Hank huffs, stepping a little closer. “Con, I love you so  _ so _ much, but there’s… there’s something going on in there.” He taps the side of Connor’s head with his index finger. “I just… I want you to let me in. Tell me how I can help you.”

Connor swallows, hard, blinking rapidly. He isn’t really sure what to do here, with Hank judging him so closely. If he’s this suspicious, Connor can’t let Niles in at all. No matter how much Connor misses him, how happy he is that Niles is here to finally be with him, Connor can’t let Hank see. Hank would never understand what they have. How much they love each other.

“We can talk later.”

“Connor-”

The doorbell rings again. Connor straightens. “Not now. I’m sorry I called you Niles, I know why I did that. You’re right, we should talk, but I can’t talk about this in front of Niles, okay? He’ll hate me.”

Hank steps back, lips parted. “You knew?”

“Yeah. I’ve been really worried that you would hate me for it.”

Tipping his head, Hank sighs again. “Baby, I could never hate you.”

Connor bites his lip. “I doubt that.” He stands on his toes, kissing Hank’s cheek. “We’ll talk about it, I swear. I’ve got some… some ghosts in my metaphorical closet. Weird ghosts.”

“I figured,” Hank retracts, correcting himself. “I just mean, with what happened with your parents. I figured you might not be… as okay as you insist you are.”

“I’m not,” Connor slides away from him, moving towards the door. “But, we can talk about that later.”

The doorknob feels hot against Connor’s skin. The air in the room is thick, still warm with the smell of sweat, of sex, of breakfast. Briefly, Connor considers cleaning up first, making it less obvious. But, Niles won’t care. Niles will only want Connor. Nothing will come between them now, besides Hank. But, Connor will deal with that another time.

The door opens, and Niles blinks down at Connor, eyes narrowed. There’s snow in his hair, on his shoulders, his nose red from the cold. He seems less tired, like he slept well, and Connor wonders if he feels the connection between them. “Hey.”

Niles pulls his lips into a sneer. “I’m here to speak to Lieutenant Anderson. Not you.”

It’s like Connor’s brain is exploding. Walls crumbling down, everything coming to a harsh stop. “Wh-what?”

A hand on his chest. Connor drinks up the attention, the warmth, but it’s gone in a flash. Niles is pushing past him, shoving his way inside. Connor can’t do anything but stammer, confused out of his mind, thoughts racing quickly, fighting to get to the forefront of his brain.

Hank stiffens. “Me?”

“Yes,” Niles shrugs out of his coat, snow falling to the tiles around him. They immediately begin to melt. “Have you spoken with Gavin? He seems to admire you as a colleague.”

Shaking his head, Hank shifts his weight from foot to foot. “No. Not since work yesterday. Why?”

“He’s not at home,” Niles’ jaw is clenched tight. He’s angry. “He was gone when I woke up this morning. I waited for him to come back, and when he didn’t, I called the station. He didn’t go in today. I figured you might know.” Niles pauses, glancing around the kitchen with cold eyes. “Do you have Detective Chen’s personal information? She might have seen him.”

Hank raises his hands, careful. “Hey, it’s alright. I’m sure he’s-”

“I’m worried.” Niles snaps, turning to glare back at Connor. Connor’s heart skips a beat. God, he’s missed Niles’ eyes. “I wouldn’t have come here if I felt it wasn’t serious.”

“If you felt-”

Niles talks over Hank. Connor rarely sees Niles this worked up. It’s… weird. “I am an empath. I can feel when things are wrong. I don’t know where my fiancé is, and it’s driving me fucking nuts.” Pausing, Niles raises his head towards Hank, making Hank take a step back.

Slowly, Niles inhales.

“Look, Reed’s a sensible guy, he can handle himself. I’ve seen him in action, he’ll be okay, wherever he is. But, I’ll help you look for him, if you’re that worried. Let me call Chen, see what she-” Hank pauses, watching with wide eyes as Niles whips his head to Connor. 

“Where. Is. The. Key.”

Connor gulps. “What key?”

“The.  _ Key.” _ Niles repeats, hands raising so he can crack his knuckles. “The fridge was empty when I left. What did you eat this morning?” Fuck. Connor should have cleaned. He shakes his head, shutting his eyes. Niles turns to Hank. “I gave Connor Elias a key last night. Where is it?”

Hank blanches, flinching when Niles raises his voice. “I don’t know.”

Frowning, Niles storms off down the hallway, flinging open the door to Connor’s bedroom and immediately going through his things. Connor rushes after him, stopping only when Hank grabs his arm. “What?”

“I… The fuck is happening, Connor?” Connor struggles, trying to pull his arm away. “No, Con, you have to tell me things, what is the key for?” Connor shakes his head, keeps shaking his head until Hank lets him go, following as Connor bounds down the hallway and pauses in the doorframe.

Niles is on his knees, going through the bedside table, tossing things out over his shoulder. Connor has to stop him, stop him from going down there. He needs to forget Gavin and move on. “Ni. Niles, it’s okay. Stop-”

He jumps out of the way when Niles stands again, shoving between them and into the bathroom. He laughs when he finds the key, in Connor’s clothes, still on the floor since he discarded them to shower. Niles has to use his shoulder to make Hank move, groaning as Connor blocks the door to his bedroom. “Move.”

“Ni, please,” Connor reaches out to grab his chest, fisting the fabric of his turtleneck between his fingers. “Please listen to me.”

Niles pulls back, eyes wild. “Fine. What?” The words stick in Connor’s throat. “What is it? What do you want to tell me? I’m listening.”

There are a lot of things Connor should say. That he’s sorry. That he loves Niles, always has, always will. That he didn’t mean to do it, that he just wanted them to be happy together.

The words don’t come. Niles scoffs and shoves Connor out of the way, rattling his brain around in his skull. Connor winces when the door hits the wall as it swings open roughly, and again when he hears the key sliding the basement door open, metal clicking together swiftly.

Footsteps. Heavy on the wood stairs, louder against the metal stairs that follow. Then, silence.

Hank steps past Connor, into Niles’ bedroom, staring at the stairs with wide eyes. “What is that?”

Connor doesn’t lie. “The basement.”

“What’s down there?” Connor stands, bracing himself against the wall, rolling his head to crack his neck. “Connor. What’s in the basement?”

He can’t stop the smirk that spreads. “Niles.” The silence ticks on, Hank watching the stairs warily, uneasy, until it happens.

Niles’ screech is somehow louder than any of the others. Ever person Connor has ever seen die, their parents, their victims, no one has screamed like Niles. The difference, Connor thinks, is that the screams he has heard before, were born from fear. Last breaths, pleads to escape, desperate to live.

Unlike them, Niles’ scream is filled with rage. Heartbreak.

He must have found Gavin’s head.

Hank is at the basement door in seconds, ready to go down there before Connor wiggles in between him and the stairs, bracing his arms against the frame. “Con, move.”

“No.”

“Connor Elias-”

“No!” Connor feels like crying. Niles must hate him now. “No. You can’t go down there.”

A crash. Glass shattering. Niles is throwing things now. “What if he’s hurt, Con? I have to-”

Connor shakes his head, his heart pounding in his chest. “If you love me, you won’t go down there.”

Hank stops fighting. He backs up. “What?”

Taking a breath, Connor straightens, puffing his chest, lowering his arms. Ready to fight. “You love me, don’t you? Listen to me when I say you don’t want to go down there.”

“Connor. What’s in the basement?”

“I love you,” Hank’s mouth falls open, and Connor places his hands on Hank’s chest, pressing his fingers against his soft shirt. “I love you. I love you.” Taking a breath, Connor reaches to kiss Hank’s lips. Soft. Warm. Safe. “Let’s leave. Niles is crazy. Let’s run away, far away from here. We can be together.” Still, Hank says nothing. “I love you.”

Hank watches him, eyes wide, lips pursed in a straight line. He doesn’t seem angry anymore, but he doesn’t seem to relax either. Minutes pass, Niles is still smashing things below their feet, destroying their life’s work. But, Connor stays, his eyes locked with Hank’s, unmoving. Finally, Hank takes a breath, and Connor smiles. “No you don’t.”

“What?”

“You don’t love me, Con. Don’t lie to me.” Connor frowns, shaking his head again. This isn’t happening. None of this is happening. This is a terrible dream, a nightmare that Connor will wake up from any second. “What’s in the basement, Connor?”

If he’s seeing through Connor’s lies anyway, fine. “Gavin.”

Hank turns, walking out of the bedroom. At first, Connor is confused, tiptoeing after him, wondering what he’s doing, where he’s going. Then, he hears the unmistakable sound of of a radio.  _ Hank is a cop. He’s calling someone. _

This is bad.

Connor’s feet hurt as they hit the metal of the second set of stairs, feeling the grooves dig into the soles of his feet. Despite the pain, he descends into the basement, the white light almost blinding him. He has to warn Niles. They have to run. They have to hide. If Hank brings other officers here, they’ll get caught. They’ll be taken to jail, probably separated for their entire lives. 

Niles is pulling knives from the wall, yanking them from their mounts and throwing them down into the glass. He’s broken all of the mirrors, and the dental engine is upturned. He’s ruined everything. “Niles.”

Straightening, Niles’ neck cracks as he turns his head, blue eyes staring at Connor like vibrant, burning fire. “What have you done?”

Connor ignores him, finally getting his feet on the tile. “Hank is calling someone. We have to go, now. He knows about-”

“Let them come,” Niles laughs, smashing another, larger knife to the ground. “You’ll be dead before they get here.”

“Niles…”

“Fuck you,” Niles hisses, straightening, tightening his grip on the handle of a cleaver. “I’m going to kill you.”

Oddly enough, Connor doesn’t feel afraid. He expected this. “I did this for us.”

“You did this for  _ you.”  _ Niles steps through the glass, shoes crunching, eye twitching. “You really,  _ really  _ couldn’t stand the thought of me being happy. You couldn’t let me go.”

“You can be happy with me,” Connor fires back, staying clear of the glass. “I love you. We can get out of here, we can-”

Hank’s footsteps are heavier than Connor’s were. He’s put shoes on, pants. He doesn’t speak when he gets to the bottom, eyes wide and darting around, taking in his surroundings. He’s quiet. Unnervingly so.

Niles’ feet crunch in the glass again as he draws nearer, knife in hand. “Niles,” Connor warns, putting a hand up. “Don’t you see? Gavin came between us. Look at what he’s done to us.”

“You did this,” Niles spits. “You.”

Connor tries to argue, but jumps as Hank steps closer. He’s holding a gun. Connor didn’t even know he brought one. “Alright, I don't know what’s going on here, but I’m sure we can work something out.” He raises a hand, to Niles. Cautious. “If you put the knife down, we can talk this through.”

“Oh, can we?” Niles rolls his eyes, frozen in the glass. “Talking won’t bring him back.”

“Who? Your.. Your parents?”

Niles glares at him, mouth open. He sets his jaw, standing upright and tipping his head towards the dental engine.

Hank covers his mouth to hide his gasp.

Gavin’s head, bloody, severed. The eye sockets are still dripping onto the tile, empty save for the blood. It’s agape, in Connor’s haste, he cracked the jaw, bloodied, empty gums on display. 

The room is quiet. Connor whispers. “He came between us.”

“You keep saying that!” Niles’ voice is louder, angrier. “But the only thing that came between  _ us _ is  _ you.” _

“That’s not true, Niles. You love me.”

“I don’t.” Niles is firm. Eyes narrowed. Connor can save this, save them, he can talk his way out of this. He can-

The tattoo.

Of course.

Connor works quickly, pulling his sweater off over his head, throwing it to the floor while Hank puts the pieces together in his head. Niles watches him, smirking. “I can ask again, what did you eat this morning?”

It’s hard not to flinch when Hank begins to vomit. Just the sound is enough to make Connor retch. “Niles, look at me. Look,” He does, eyes widening as he traces the tattoo. A snake, coiling down his arm and ending at his wrist, the head open and hissing against his collarbone.

It’s Gavin’s.

“Ni,” Connor raises his hands, stepping a little closer. “If we don’t leave, we’ll die. Please, come with me.”

“Absolutely not. You’re insane.”

“Niles, please,” Connor can feel the glass cutting into his bare feet. Though Niles is angry, he hasn’t moved, eyes darting between Hank, hunched over and gagging, and Connor, stepping towards him. “We’ve only ever had each other. You brought someone else in and I got scared. You left and I thought I would never see you again.”

Niles’ eye twitches, but still, he doesn’t move.

“I love you. I know you’re mad, but if you want, you can pretend that I’m Gavin. I can be good for you. I’ll be there for you, we can be happy. You’ve always resented me, for your own idea of what’s right and what’s… what’s fucked up. And yeah, this is terrible. Niles, what we do is fucking terrible. But, maybe we can start over.”

“What?” Niles finally speaks, his anger fading. His brow is still knit tight together, but his grimace softens, dissipating. 

“You said we could move. Put all of this behind us. So let’s do it. Let’s go somewhere else. There is nothing keeping us here anymore.”

Niles blinks at him, still unmoving as Connor finally closes the distance between them. Connor eyes the knife, Niles’ knuckles still white around the handle, before standing up on his toes, kissing Niles’ lips.

At first, there’s nothing. No spark. Like normal, all those times Connor tried to kiss Niles and he froze, refusing to indulge.

But, as time passes, the knife clatters to the floor, and Niles wraps his arms around Connor’s abdomen, leaning into the kiss. It’s not like when Niles was crying, drunk and on the floor, shoving his tongue into Connor’s mouth and trying to force him to stay.

Now, Niles’ mouth is soft, moving with Connor’s in a way that’s easy, normal. Perfect.

When Connor pulls back, he ignores the gun that’s trained on him. He can feel it, along with Hank’s eyes staring down the barrel. Niles’ face is softer now, expressionless. 

“What the fuck,” Hank speaks under his breath, hands shaking. Connor glances at him before turning fully, raising his hands up. “Don’t move.”

“I’m not,” Connor shrugs. “Put the gun down, Hank.”

“Uh-uh,” Hank shakes his head. “I called for backup. Fuck, this is…. Fuck, Connor.”

Connor tips his head. “If you have questions, I can answer them now. You’re going to take me to jail anyway, I guess.”

Hank glares, still blinking, glancing at Niles briefly. “You’re a cannibal.”

“Yes,” Connor smiles. “I always have been. I ate my parents, and… I don’t know, it always stuck with me. I accidentally murdered my girlfriend in college, and I just… couldn’t stop myself.”

“H-how many?” Hank still looks sick. Poor baby.

“Thirty-seven.” Hank retches again. “I think the media calls the missing people ‘Victims of  _ The Butcher.’  _ Guess that’s me.”

Connor watches Hank, hands still raised. Hank adjusts his grip on the gun. “What about… What about with me?”

Pursing his lips, Connor isn’t sure why Hank is so upset. Maybe finding out that your boyfriend is a serial cannibal is kind of upsetting. “Two. The girl I was hitting on the night we met, and Gavin.”

Hank turns, lowering his gun to vomit again. Disgusting. Connor isn’t sure what to do now. It’s too late to run, Hank knows everything. Slowly, he reaches out for Niles’ hand, craving some kind of comfort.

But, Niles is gone. Connor wonders how he didn’t hear the glass crunching. Of course. Connor will stay here, and Niles will go free. That’s good. It’s better than both of them rotting in prison, unable to see each other. Besides, Connor would do anything for Niles. He doesn’t mind taking the blame.

He tells Hank this when Hank steadies himself. “Please don’t blame Niles. This was all me. This is all my fault, Hank. I’m so sorry you found out this way, but I did what had to be done.”

Hank’s eyes soften. Maybe there’s a chance he’ll forgive Connor. Maybe things will be okay. “Con. I don’t… This is… insane.”

“I know. You said it yourself, there’s something wrong,” He taps the side of his head, like Hank did in the kitchen. “In here.”

“Yeah,” Hank exhales, gun dropping by his side, loose in his grip. He struggles to stand, still whoozy from vomiting, from all of this information. “You need-”

He pauses, and at first, Connor thinks he’s choked up. Then, he falls forward, into his own vomit.

Niles pulls a knife from Hank’s lower back, eyes darting up to meet Connor’s. “You wanna kill him?”

Connor sputters, surprised. “Wh- no. No! He called someone, there will be other officers here.” Connor lowers his hands finally, stepping over to where Hank gasps for breath. “You have to go, Ni. I’ll stay here, I’ll tell them you never knew about this.”

Frowning, Niles wipes the knife off on Hank’s shirt before standing upright and sliding it back in its place on the wall. “I’m not going to leave you here, Concon.”

_ Concon. _

Connor was right.

Gavin did come between them. He did make Niles blind to his relationship with Connor. 

Now that Gavin is out of the way, they can finally be…

Happy.

When Niles extends his hand, Connor’s slots perfectly against it, fingers entwining tightly as they climb the stairs together.

They pause in the driveway, just long enough for Niles to kick the license plate off of his car. Despite the cold, the leather sticks to Connor’s bare skin, still sweaty from adrenaline.

Connor keeps his hands on Niles’, and they drive in silence, breathing in unison. 

Briefly, Connor glances back to spy the red and blue lights as the other officers respond to Hank’s call.

It reminds him of when they pulled Dad from the house, leaving Connor and Niles behind.

  
  
  
  


_ Step on the glass, staple your tongue. Bury a friend, try to wake up. Cannibal class, killing the son. Bury a friend. I wanna end me.  _

  
  
  


Two boys. Men. Stand hand in hand on the pavement, watching hot flames engulf the car in front of them. Smoke blooms up into the trees, and neither looks back as they turn away from it, leaving their old life behind them.

One of them, shorter, fixes his glasses. “I love you.”

The other, taller, broader, sighs. “I love you, too.”


End file.
